Sinners & Scapegoats
by gimmetheheadcanons
Summary: In a small-minded county full of stares and whispers, a well-meaning Sheriff is caught in a scandal with a woman determined to save another - no matter the personal cost. (Richonne) [discontinued]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is a multi part Richonne fic. It is an AU mystery drama (with romance) and I began a while ago but decided to come back to only recently (and finally post). I will be posting maybe twice a month until it's done - so heads up there. Let me know if it is worth continuing. (Trigger warnings, contains violence and racial slurs)._

 **1\. Prying eyes**

Rick Grimes's job was _a job_.

It was supposed to be a career, something with a purpose beyond the practical nature of a pay check. _Protect and serve the community_ , there was no greater honor for a man of his caliber than being a deputy sheriff in a county full of fools apparently. Nothing more satisfying than chasing petty bike thieves all over town. Or breaking up a 'salacious' Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party that was misidentified as an 'illegal kegger' by a preachy passer-by. And to finish of this day of dunces, the most dignified activity of all! Once again, calling in at the request of anonymous white folk, unaware that the phrase _'suspicious activity'_ was not an umbrella term for any and all things any person with a _'darker complexion'_ may be doing.

In this case it was the nefarious action of a thirty something years old black woman in a casual, loose white blouse, ripped denim jeans and brown open toed sandals, putting up a couple of posters which needed _immediate_ police attention. Thank the Lord for the ever vigilant residents of Winter Oaks Avenue!

"Oh for Pete's sake." Rick muttered under his breath, furious with himself for even taking the call from Diane at dispatch. He should have known better. Had he not been on his way out of the office he wouldn't have bothered. But here he was, once again at the beck and call of small-minded racists, trying to work out how best to handle this situation without offending this probably innocent woman or enraging the majority of the town's voting pool in an election year. The Powers that Be at King's County Sherriff's Department would undoubtedly fail to thank him for once again _"pandering to the so-called PC culture of ill-informed progressives instead of serving the good folk of this county, the ones with real concerns about the increasing crime rates"._

Ah yes, the things that go bump in the night. Rick grimaced at himself as he looked at the well-lit and virtually empty street. There was no mistaking this woman for a dangerous trespasser and yet somehow, in this community – with that head full of dark dreads at least, she was. Rick glanced down at his wrist watch, it had just gone a little past seven. The sun would be gone in an hour or so and Rick wondered where this woman lived and if he could be so lucky as to have caught her just as she was about to finish putting up the last of her posters before retiring for the day – none the wiser about the nastiness of her neighbors.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Rick just sat in his vehicle with the key still in the ignition. He simply observed the situation, each moment toying with the idea of just driving off. _Just give it another minute_ , he told himself, then he could finally get his ass home to his family – and on time for dinner for once. It was another ten minutes into his 'minute' when Rick realized he had been caught by the woman. She was peering back at him from across the street, a curious frown visible on her face, even from this distance and Rick knew had no choice but to get out and face her.

Even if it was just for the purpose of damage control.

 _Be the change you wanna see._

After a long, tired sigh, Rick put on his wide brimmed sheriff's hat and made his approach adopting a casual non-threatening strut which hopefully would signal his intent to talk and not escalate the situation. As expected, there was a flicker of blinds from several of the homes he passed. The skin on the back of his neck, accustomed to the fieriest of Georgia's summers, burned with intense dislike and discomfort. He ignored the rows of narrowed eyes peering from behind the slits, instead firmly keeping his gaze on the perplexed woman he was about to approach.

"Evening ma'am." He greeted her with a friendly yet still somewhat carefully crafted smile.

She wouldn't grace him with the same; her response was firm, respectable yet wary. "How can I help you officer?"

Rick maintained his smile, upholding it against the scrutiny of her heavily lashed dark eyes. "Actually, I was hoping I could help you."

If she could roll her eyes, Rick knew she would have. Scoff at him and rightfully tell him to state his real intent. But this was King's County and Rick could sense the tension in the air as she carefully contemplated her next move. Rick wanted to make it easier on her, feeling the burden of the situation and knowing he was responsible for it.

A little less forced and a lot more friendly; he attempted to disarm her cautiousness with old fashioned, gentlemanly charm, the kind his dear grandmother taught him to embrace. "I was just on my way home when I saw you and thought; Hey now Rick, what better way to earn them shiny stars pinned to your shirt so handsomely than to assist this young lady on this fine evening."

He was careful to introduce himself using his Christian name, trying to distance his true self from the uniform he wore. Yet he could do nothing to shield her from the truth. Her expression, still every bit as guarded signalled to him the realities of the world she lived him. She was tall, taut, and terribly beautiful even in her indignation.

The woman replied almost instantly in an accent far removed from his own Southern drawl, betraying herself as a newcomer from the North. "I'm almost done so no need to bother yourself. Thank you for your time Officer."

Dismissed but not defeated, Rick pushed forward. "You sure?" He asked because he knew he couldn't walk away. Not with an audience as enthralled as Romans spectators, ready to rate this performance with a devastating gesturing of their thumbs. No, he could not leave her, not to the lions.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Excuse me?" Her bluntness surprised him.

"If not, I'd like to be on my way." She was smart enough not to move until he gave the okay. Rick felt increasingly uncomfortable with the choices he was being presented him.

"Look, there is no need to worry. Like I said, I was on my way home when – "

"I heard you."

Again, Rick was surprised. She cut him off mid excuse – _mid lie_. Despite her disinterest in his self-serving speech, Rick still foolishly believed he could walk away from this interaction smelling like roses. Sincerely and softly, he made his final mistake. "Then what's the problem ma'am."

Then, finally, came the scoff he deserved.

"I could ask you the exact same thing. Which one called you."

It was enough to render Rick speechless. The jig is up, the measured tone she spoke with could not hide the fury behind her words.

"Which of those disrespectful _racists_ , cowardly peeking from behind their blinds called you."

Rick did his best not to flinch at her use of what would be deemed _the real hard R_ in these parts. He swallowed hard, truly hating this place and the people in it.

"I just wanna know how I can help with these posters." He tried again, wanting to so desperately distance himself from the truth. He was their tool, but he could also be here for her. If he could just stop her from tarring him with the same brush. "Maybe even show a taxpayer like yourself that I take my job seriously."

She wasn't the problem, Rick wanted to tell her but at the last minute deciding to keep his mouth shut.

She hesitated for a moment, not speaking again but Rick got the message loud and clear.

 _You expect me to buy this bull?_

 _Please do,_ Rick's eyes begged.

The desperate look in his eyes may have done the job as she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine you're gonna protect them. I get it. But I need to know for real, am I being arrested?"

It was a sincere worry and Rick knew he could no longer disrespect her by dodging the question. He shook his head and continued to offer further clarifications on his part. He took a step closer, careful not to spook her but also trying his best to create some privacy before confessing his truth.

"It's an election year." He whispered.

"Honestly it's a pain in the behind trying to be that extra police presence."

"An election year." She repeated, a frown forming on her face as she processed the meaning of his words.

"Yep. The bosses got a burr in their saddle about it. So, unless you have a baby I can kiss or a hand I can shake – I'd like to do my job and help with those posters, if you don't mind that is." Rick's charm finally worked, he could tell by the relaxed look on her face as she nodded in agreement.

Grateful for the reprieve, Rick nodded courteously before helping her gather her bags, papers, and stapler to move onto the next row of bare wooden posts. She had every reason to continue to hold him at arm's length for what almost transpired this evening, yet past experiences and perhaps a kindness in her heart had told her that Rick was one of the good ones.

Or at least he was trying to be, her slightly raised eyebrow revealed as they walked, side by side, still somewhat uncomfortably.

"So, what are we dealing with, a runaway pup or –

"A _'fly out of the window of a speeding car'_ teddy bear."

"Ah an _exotic_ pet."

She managed to crack a smile for him and Rick's heart fluttered slightly.

They decided to set up at the first of the posts, the joke acting as a much-needed ice-breaker and allowing them to work quickly in perfect coordination; Rick passing her the sheets of paper and her carefully using the staple gun.

The teddy bear photo was printed in black in white, a small scruffy looking thing being held in arms of a toddler with big eyes and an even bigger grin on his face. Underneath, a description typed out with love and desperation – _Help Mr. Bear come home to Andre._

"He belongs to my son. He's three and I really need it back." There was a real grief behind her words, her dark eyes not watery but not very far from it.

"I get it." Rick said staring at the side of her face as she turned away from him. "I really do." He repeated, careful to just be expressing empathy from one parent to another and internally reminding himself of his own commitment as a father and husband. "He can't sleep without it right?"

"Something like that."

"Right. Well let's get this street and the next done, so you can get back home in time for tuck in time."

"Thank you, Officer."

"You're welcome Ma'am."

Things were going well and soon this watchful stranger was replaced by incredibly interesting company.

Pulling a face of mock disgust at the proper way he continued to call her _Ma'am_ , the woman finally just told him her name. It was one he'd never heard before but liked the sound of anyway. Michonne from Manhattan. An art teacher and painter looking to find new inspiration in the Deep South. A mother. The new owner of the Old Kent Farmhouse, self-renovating the crumbling place after the death of the owner and looking to make a home here in this town. Rick listened to her talk and was surprised to see how animated and easy going she was. Deep within him, he felt the shame rising up again from their initial introduction. Her hostility had been understandable, his behavior had not. Still, he was glad he took the call and glad it was him that got the chance to meet this charming woman with the most infectious smile.

She asked him about this town and Rick told her that despite all its faults, it was home and he hoped it could be hers to. She responded optimistically and Rick fought back the urge to apologize for what he knew she had already figured out about the people that lived here. Instead he told her tales about his own son, Carl, now twelve years old but still somewhat sentimental about his favorite childhood toy – a dusty blue, stuffed elephant called Frump. He made sure not to tell her about his wife Lori, who had won the stuffed toy at the summer fair when they were seventeen and still in love.

If his job was just a job these days, then his marriage was one too. It was exhausting knowing what waited for him when he arrived home later. For weeks now, his wedding band pinched at his finger uncomfortably, from the weight gained from the drive-thru burgers he ate in his car as he agonized over the state of his marriage with counselling from his bachelor pal and partner Shane Walsh. Today, however, he had made plans to make it home for dinner and face the problems head on. Instead here he was, cherishing a few moments of casual conversation about his day that dazzled Michonne but would've drained Lori.

And to Rick Grimes, Christian, Father, Husband – this was devastating.

Still, they got talking and Rick had almost gotten away with it.

That was until reality came crushing down in the form of the always delightful Ed Peletier, marching up the street like a bull. Red in the face and practically foaming at the mouth, Ed did what Ed _always_ did.

"Sheriff Grimes."

Rick managed a curt nod in response for a man he so openly despised. "How can I help Ed?"

"I'd like a word."

"Sure thing, as soon as I finish up with Michonne here. She's new to town. Michonne, this is Ed Peletier – local entrepreneur of sorts."

 _Read between the lines you redneck asshole._ Rick begged, hoping that by revealing Michonne's status as a homeowner and a part of this community, the information would be enough to put a muzzle on Ed.

Ed however was predictably impatient, after darting a brief but filthy look at the hand Michonne had courteously extended, the gruff man continued to completely ignore her and keep his wild eyes on Rick, whose own hands were itching to punch the man.

With a resigned expression and a quick apology, Rick handed back the posters and followed Ed across the street to the front of his house. There they were met by Carol Peletier, Ed's patient wife, standing at an open door with a concerned expression on her face.

"Evenin' Carol." Rick called out, a genuine warm smile on his face. As much as he despised Ed, he pitied Carol. A small, fragile looking woman with graying hair beyond her years.

"Hello Rick."

Pleasantries aside and out of Michonne's earshot, Rick turned to the man who dragged him away from her. "What do you want Ed."

He dropped the friendly act in favor of a venomous look, bearing no good will for Ed Peletier and the company he kept in this town.

"I wanna know what you're playing at Grimes."

"Families live here. Children."

Rick could barely maintain his composure, his head tilting slightly at the implication of Ed's words.

"You have a job to do. Get rid of her."

"Now on what grounds would that be Ed?" Rick asked. His voice now a low, menacing growl. Ed's blue eyes were bulging out of their sockets at the audacity of Rick's question. All too familiar with her husband's temper, Carol Peletier, placed her hands bravely onto Ed's arm, holding him back for his own sake.

Rick scowled, frustrated at the woman's gesture. Carol had no business protecting a man who put her in the hospital on more than one occasion. Despite their struggles, Rick couldn't even imagine ever laying a hand on his wife. Still, despite the help offered to her, for a reason only known to her – Carol Peletier remained the dutiful wife.

It was a heart-breaking reality Rick had come to accept.

Carol's actions worked, the brutish looking man was reminded that Rick Grimes was not a friend of his and if given the excuse, would be more than happily fire six warning shots into the thick head wearing that Braves' baseball cap. Breathing heavily and polluting the air with whiskey fumes, Ed made his next move.

"She don't belong here." Ed finally spat out, unable to put things anymore delicately than that.

"She's passing through." Rick said firmly, his eyes unblinking and angry. He remained as calm as possible, knowing he wouldn't have to do much when it came to Ed Peletier. Sooner or later, he'd be hauling his fat ass into that patrol car and back to the station. It was a dance that was all too familiar to the three figures standing at the doorway of the Peletier residence.

Ed was never a measured man and Rick's challenge made him foolish enough to continue shooting his mouth off. "She's loitering! Her and that garbage she's pinning to our posts."

Ed's bellowing was drawing an audience from his young daughter, Sophia. The girl was the same age as Carl but with a sadness in her eyes that aged her the same way it did her mother. The shouting was enough for a curious and concerned Michonne to abandon her things, cross the street and walk towards the Peletier's house.

"Is everything okay?" Michonne asked, politely leaning in over the fence stopping at her waist.

It was an innocent enough query and the woman never entered the property but as far as Ed was concerned she had crossed a line.

"It's your job to do something about shit like this. Fucking negroes encroaching upon our domicile like this! Disturbing the peace! It's not decent I tell you!"

Rick snapped at the slur. "Decent? Like your wife-beating, racist, drunken ass would know the meaning of the word!"

And that was all it took.

The situation escalated in mere minutes. Ed, ready to swing a fist at Rick, only to be intercepted by his quick thinking, self-sacrificing wife. The small woman clung onto her husband' ham of an arm for dear life, causing him to explode in further fury and her at the receiving end of a closefisted hit from the free hand. It would have been enough to stop there, for Ed to realize he made his point as Carol fell back toward the open door, into their hallway and onto the hardwood floor – taking their poor daughter down with her. But in the eyes of Ed Peletier, any act against him was unforgivable insubordination, something he could not let go unaddressed.

Rick and Michonne were no longer on his radar.

Within seconds, he began shamelessly pounding on his wife with everything he had, completely disregarding the fact there were witnesses standing a few feet away, one of them being an officer of the law.

In between a flurry of violent, merciless kicks and punches, Ed managed to call his blameless wife a stream of obscenities, ignoring the desperate screams coming from his terrified young daughter and the shout to desist from Rick.

It took a full minute for Rick to finally pull Ed off of Carol and away from Sophia. Furious at how much damage Ed managed to inflict, Rick didn't hold back when he had the chance, roughly shoving the bastard's face into the gravel of the footpath outside the house. Ed struggled under Rick's weight, choking on the stones and dirt he was getting a mouth full of. Still full of rage, he continued to make threats against his wife who was covered in red welts and bleeding from a bust lip and cut eyebrow.

Rick expected to see Michonne still standing at the gate, shell shocked at what just occurred before her or at least in angry tears at the racial slurs that were being hurled in her direction. Instead, Rick was surprised to see, she was knelt by his side, stone faced and strong – helping secure Ed as he put on the handcuffs.

She had his back during the struggle. Leaping into action the way only a trained protector would. She told him she was an art teacher, Rick thought briefly, curious to know the rest of her story once all of this was over.

Ed, unlike Rick, did not appreciate Michonne's proximity to his sweaty, dirt covered body. Despite being cuffed and beaten, he managed to turn his head just enough to spit violently at Michonne's chest and face.

In that moment, all Rick saw was red. His weapon was drawn in an instance and threateningly pressed against the back of Ed's neck.

Michonne jumped up and away from Rick but he could barely register the look of shock on her face at the way events escalated. It was Sophia and Carol's screaming, however, that he found harder to ignore.

The mother and daughter were pleading with Rick – for Ed's life. Tears streaming from their face and their anguished cries of "Please, please, please! Jesus Christ – oh God, no please" drawing a crowd. Suddenly, the street was flooded with residents. Curious murmurs turning quickly into panic. But Rick couldn't see the faces of the community he swore to protect. He could only hear their voices.

"Someone do something!"

"Someone call the police."

"He _is_ the police."

"What is happening Honey?"

"Who is she?"

"Rick."

Her voice, in a sea of buzzing white noise, it cut through to him and for a brief enough moment, Michonne brought him back.

Suddenly, Rick was surprised more by his own actions than the reaction of the people around him. Ed was scum but he was handcuffs. This wouldn't be self-defense but a coldblooded murder.

"Rick." Her voice again but this time in his own mind, gently trying to remind him of what had promised her.

 _He was one of the good ones._

That thought was enough to finally sober Rick's mind. The deafening drumming inside his skull stopped, rage no longer pumping blood and adrenaline to his trigger finger. In between deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to place the gun into its holder.

Ed, who had been as stiff as a corpse finally relaxed as Rick stood up. Carol threw herself onto her husband's cuffed body, sobbing still, her eyes never leaving Rick – more afraid of the man protecting her than she was of the man who hurt her for years.

For a while, no one spoke. They stood there, processing what just nearly happened.

Finally, Sophia stepped forward.

"Leave." She said looking Rick in the eye. "Before I call the police again."

 _Again._

Rick couldn't hide the surprise on his face. So it wasn't any of the people gawking or some ignorant prejudicial neighbor from across the street who had called the station; it wasn't even Ed, an out and proud white supremacist – it was this small, fragile, eleven years old girl.

"Please."

She wasn't begging him. Trembling slightly, she straightened her shoulders to face down a man with a gun, a man she admits to having called in the first place.

 _But why?_

Rick wanted to ask, but it took a quick look at the deep purple older bruises on Carol Peletier's exposed shoulders and the evil the mere presence Michonne had brought out in Sophia's father, for Rick to realize the answer for himself.

She was trying to protect them, including Michonne.

The crowd was growing, neighbors having knocked on other neighbors doors regarding the drama Rick knew they deep down had been expecting – but probably with Michonne as a tragic player not a baffled bystander.

Distracted by the righteous anger beginning to bubble up inside him, Rick decided to address the prying eyes.

"Alright folks, now that Ed here's calmed down a bit I'm sure you can all agree there are more interesting things that await you inside your own homes."

"I think we'd just like to know what all this commotion is about Sheriff Grimes." A familiar voice asked.

Rick felt a twitch in his neck, but replied as calmly as possible to the pale elderly man with questioning eyes sitting under a dark set of eyebrows and sunhat. "Ah I'm sure you all already do, Dale."

Dale let out a sad sigh, showing some humility and awareness. Rick had run into him on previous call outs to this neighborhood. He knew the retired educator to be a good man, taking it upon himself to help out Carol on occasion - administering First Aid or giving her a car ride to the hospital. That said, the same couldn't be said for the rest of these vultures.

"You heard me first time people. I won't say it again. Clear out. NOW!"

Rick stared down the residents, knowing very well this would find a way of getting back to his superiors but frankly not giving a shit.

"Right now, let the officer do his job. Come now, time to get out of this heat and back to our couches." Dale's mild waves had the power to disperse a crowd far quicker than a police water canon and Rick was grateful for the powers of the former school principal.

The elderly man was about to make his exit when Ed piped up again.

"Where you going you old Jew bastard?" He cried out, flailing on the floor like a sea lion. "You all saw what he did, he's not a cop. He's a thug. You're my witness!"

"Oh Edward, you were a bully in school and you're just a bigger one now. Don't make things worse for yourself." With a disapproving glare and a sigh of disgust, Dale Horvath retired to his own home, just a couple doors down from the Peletiers.

Relieved the excitement was drawing to an end, Rick let out of a sigh, he turned to Michonne, who during the uproar had returned to the guarded state he met her in. She was however gently tending to Sophia, her arms protectively around the girl's shoulders.

"You okay?" He asked and she relaxed, reassuring him with a small smile.

"You okay?" She asked him back and he did the same.

Rick then turned to the little girl in Michonne's arms, knowing he too needed to somehow comfort her. "I'm sorry." He told Sophia, truly meaning the words. "But I'm taking your father in. I have to and I think you agree."

The girl glanced down at her mother's battered body, lain over a man who continued to curse under his breath about being betrayed by his own blood.

"Mom." She said weakly. "Please."

When Rick began to approach Ed, Carol didn't start up her screams in defense of her husband. Her daughter's plea had rendered her speechless. Michonne stepped forward, carefully placing her arms around Carol's shoulders and with gentle words coaxed her away from the toxic man she had married, instead steering her toward the daughter that needed her. The three women, then stood by, letting Rick do his job. Neither his daughter nor wife were treating Michonne with the same revulsion Ed had, instead grateful for the cover and calm she provided them with.

Rick knew it was a sight that in the future would cause daily bitterness to the prick he had just dragged up from the ground and that warmed his own heart significantly.

Heading to back to his police cruiser with Ed Peletier in tow, Rick Grimes felt a burst of optimism. Maybe things could be different in this small town full of stone throwers. Perhaps some honest to God good could be done, by those willing to commit to acting on their conscience. Something to shock the small minded, their stale sermons and suspicious stares.

Rick took one last look at the trio of women in his rear view window. The sun was almost gone, but as he drove away the white of Michonne's blouse remained visible in the amber rays. Striking as a knight's armor, Rick thought, affectionately thinking back to her noble quest for a lost bear.

"That bitch made the mistake of her life tonight."

Ed Peletier said from the back of the car, spewing his hate like the last rings of smoke coming from a defeated dragon. His intoxicated, blood shot eyes reflected back at Rick's calm blue ones but there was no need for a response as Ed slunk back into the seat looking smaller and more wretched than he'd ever looked before. Nothing but a pain parasite, severed from its source of strength.

It had finally happened.

He was finally done counting the times he had to let this man go back to hurting that family all over again.

Rick told himself this lie with little else to fear.

But with all things concerning this town of his, this job of his and this frequently disappointing life he was committed to – Rick Grimes's optimistic outlook would be a premature one. Just over the horizon there waited the all too familiar failure of busted jaws, and broken promises.

In a month's time they'd end up in back in this place.

And the month after that, Rick would be praying to be back here once. Back to a time where things weren't all that bad – dealing with bruises instead of a bloated, lifeless body.


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. Untouchable**

"When's your dumb ass gonna learn huh Ed?"

It hadn't even been a full month yet when Rick Grimes' ears, all the way from the bullpen, picked up the sounds of an angry shouting match ongoing in the hallway between his partner and the very man he had hoped he wouldn't be running into again so soon. Mad as hell, he got up from his desk, abandoning a shit pile of paperwork and arriving at the scene just in time to witness Deputy Sheriff Shane Walsh shamelessly commit an act of police brutality by letting Ed Peletier's head collide into a clearly shut door.

 _Twice._

The man let out an agonizing scream.

"Ouch! My bad, brother." Shane apologized with a completely sarcastic smirk, before continuing to manhandle his detainee. Jerking Ed back towards his chest, Shane turned to Rick. "Hey man, can you get that for me?"

Rick smiled as he opened the door, glad that Shane had the same lack of restraint he did. Perhaps it would be better for everyone to let Shane handle this one, Rick told himself.

With that happy thought, he would have walked away had Carol not arrived at the station a few moments later, wearing a tired yet concerned look on her face.

She did nothing to greet Rick.

"You're a dumb fucking bitch Carol! I married a dumb fucking bitch!"

Rick sighed wanting to be surprised at Ed's less than warm words for his wife or Carol's dutiful arrival, but instead he was wondering if there weren't some truth to them. It made him feel a sick with shame but after three weeks of relative peace and quiet, he was beginning to belief that Carol Peletier had finally found the strength to make the decision to kick her no good dog of a husband to the curb.

But here she was. Ready to bail the bastard out. Again.

The week after last month's incident had been a tough one for Rick. He had his ass handed to him by a boss who wasn't all too concerned at the use of force applied in _"a simple dispute between a man and his wife"_ , but was absolutely livid at the sheer volume of calls that came in regarding Rick's handling of the matter.

What had caused the red-faced man particular distress - which he happily relayed to Rick in a loud and clear manner - was the inexcusable way in which someone in his employ, could cause such an _"unwarranted scene"_ in an election year.

Rick made his peace with the man, taking full responsibility and keeping the details as vague as possible. Luckily it had paid off and Michonne's name hadn't come up in the dressing down. Yet Rick did wonder if it was because Ed's openly racist rantings were a little too indelicate for the more insidious polite form the head of this department was more accustomed to engaging with. Ed's behavior was nothing new in this town and the town tolerated it in part because of the man's family history.

The Peletiers did not come from money, but they did enjoy their own slice of the American dream in this town, all thanks to Ed's great grandfather, a much beloved and much bigoted historical Mayor. It was disturbing to Rick how much sway a dead bigot still held in this town, a place determined to fondly hold on to the memory of _Jim Crow_. Ed himself was no politician, he simply owned a couple of stores but each of them successful enough to make his face one familiar to entire to most residents. His wife, Carol, worked from time to time in the grocery store whilst he managed the hardware one on a full-time basis.

Essential pillars of the communities, the Peletiers. And in return for their service, no one batted an eye at any 'family disagreements' that may _or may not_ occur in the privacy of their home (or in the middle of town square). Besides, as Rick was told on many occasions by kind concerned church-goers, it's not Ed but the drink that's the devil. Prayer not judgement, that's the Lord's way.

The excuses made Rick's blood boil. It didn't matter that no amount of whiskey ever made him or any other decent human being join the Loyal White Knights of King's County, a local charter of the Klu Klux Klan. But as much as Rick tried to tell people _exactly that_ , he quickly began to realize that sadly not all its members were as bold as Ed in their affiliations and Rick had to be careful about the motivations behind those who continued to protect Ed. For that was the problem with this town; the fictions it told itself, they run as old and deep as the Chattahooche River.

Rick couldn't help but think back to the events of the summer before last.

The Theodore Douglass case had been the catalyst for Rick's disillusionment with his job and a real wake-up call regarding the insidiousness that sat beneath this small town. A more self-aware man would have gone as far as to say it was the catalyst for many of the events in Rick's life since, including the tension in his marriage. But despite 'waking up' to reality, Rick still somehow continued to live in that comfortable in between space occupied by desperation and denial and in all honesty, was far from ready to face the repercussions of opening that particular can of worms.

Yet here he was, back at his desk, doing just that.

Theodore ran King County's animal clinic. He had gotten his degree at the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine but confessed to Rick one time that he always knew his skills were far more valuable outside the big city. He was a big man with a big heart and most residents took to him as well as they could have considering the color of his skin. An animal lover and a friend to the canine unit here at the Sheriff's Department, Rick enjoyed taking out time in his day to chat with Theodore or T-Dogg as Shane affectionately named him – a blunder that made Rick cringe inwardly but Theo seemed to not mind.

He had made a home here and whilst the residents didn't embrace him, they did not reject his much needed skill and care for the animals of King's County.

However, not all of them shared the same sentiment.

One late night in June 2016, Theo made the mistake of making a late home call to a farm on the outskirts of the county. He went out to tend to an emergency regarding a sick mare and ended up being admitted into Harrison Memorial with a face so caved in that looked that it was violently kicked in by the beast itself. It took Theo two weeks to regain consciousness and three days after waking from his coma, Rick took his statement and the case was decidedly shut.

A failed carjacking, was the what the local headlines said. Every paper making sure to never report the faint markings of what looked like Klan insignia, carved onto the hood of Theo's car. A car supposed desired by 'thieves' who instead burnt it to nothing more but a smoldering, metal hull and left the owner, inches from death, beside it.

"Now _I know_ and _you know_ and it's all so fucked up man. But without T's statement there's not enough, not with that damage." Shane had to frustratingly remind him on countless occasions, begging Rick to accept that their hands were tied.

It was a scare tactic, a message for Theo and it did the job.

Theodore Douglas named or described not one person. Little over two months after the incident, he was strong enough to transfer to Emory and choose to complete his rehabilitation in Atlanta. He never set foot in King's County again.

Rick couldn't say he was sad to see him go, knowing that he probably would have done the same. Theo, unlike Rick, had nothing tying him down to this town other than his love for animals, the ones he found he was being treated far worse than. The savage monsters that hurt him would walk free but the doctors could not say the same for Theodore, who would be battling the rest of his life with the mental and physical damage inflicted upon him that day.

The events surrounding the case haunted Rick, his frustration seeping into his home life and his marriage. It has been two years almost and his obsession with the case was just another thing that Lori could no longer stand about him. It wasn't fair to be mad at her for the evils in this town or blame her for taking issue with the reckless way he continued to endanger his life, career, and reputation. But somehow Rick resented her anyway. She didn't understand. Didn't want to.

So instead he was alone - carrying around the guilt of having failed a decent man and good friend and doing stupid things like pull out a gun in broad daylight on that bastard Ed Peletier.

"This is our home Rick. Nothing's going to change that." Lori flat out told him that night.

"What happened was – just awful. But Theodore is gone, living his life and you need to think about what happens next."

Rick did his best not to argue with her because deep down he knew she was telling the truth. He had come close to losing his job three times now and without the protection of his badge, men far worse than Ed Peletier were less likely to tolerate him.

No, Lori was right in that he couldn't lose this job. It was the only way to keep hurting these people.

—–

"I didn't call them Ed." Carol said pleading with her husband as Shane cuffed him to a bench. "I swear."

"You may as well have!" Ed retorted back from his seat. "You ain't been the same, ever since that bitch."

Rick's interest peeked at the mention of Michonne. He hadn't spoken to her since the first evening they met and would be lying if said he hadn't thought about checking in on her. She played on his mind like a half completed melody, and over the last few weeks he thought of her often enough to make arrangements to see her. Even if it was just from a distance.

For a brief while, Rick took over pick up duties from Lori. Just on Thursdays; he hoped he could stop by the school and catch a glimpse of her. It wasn't quite right in terms of how it looked, but Rick somehow didn't care. He needed to see how she was. For his own peace of mind.

And she seemed to have settled in – just like Theo had. He saw her twice, once in a brilliantly yellow summer dress, waving off students with a wide smile and once more, in brown slacks, heading to her car carrying a bag of sketch books to grade.

Carl noticed his father's stare and helpfully offered up a few more details regarding _Ms. Anthony_ , _the new art teacher_. Rick was grateful for his son's interjection, but also wary about how far this had gone. Chastising himself in private for the disturbing lapse in judgement; the next Wednesday Rick called Lori from work and told her he could no longer fulfill his commitment. Carl would have to find another ride home.

Carl seemed a little disappointed to be giving up their special alone time together but like with any twelve years old something better came along to distract him and Rick knew he could make it up to him in some other way. He was quickly forgiven and Carl remained none the wiser of his father's interest in Ms. Anthony.

Back in the station, Carol let out a frustrated sigh in response to her own accusations regarding her relationship with Michonne. "I said I was sorry Ed. You said you forgave me."

"And you said you'd never see her again!" Ed yelled back. Rick was surprised to hear him sound so afraid. Michonne's presence in Carol's life made him uncomfortable but not for the obvious reasons regarding racial prejudice. Carol continued to defend herself, it was as if the consequences didn't matter.

"You're being paranoid and that's not my fault!"

Rick almost let out a gasp of disbelief at what he had just witnessed. Carol Peletier standing in front of her husband, pointing the finger at him accusingly and laying the blame at his feet. For a moment, there was a sudden but steely glint in her eyes as she spoke, waving her hands in front of Ed's face. Rick wondered if Ed saw it too. He barked and howled, but never again with the same intensity Rick was accustomed to seeing from him.

"Don't lie to me woman!" Ed replied but it wasn't quite the threat the man had hoped it would be. "Don't pee down my back then tell me it's raining! You been seeing her! I know you have!"

Carol rubbed her face in frustration before pacing silently

"Why else we here huh?" Ed asked his intense blue eyes fixed onto his wife's, waiting for an answer.

Shane rolled his own brown ones and took the question instead of Carol. "You're here cuz you're idiot enough to man handle your wife in front of a cop. Again!"

Carol turned to Shane and shook her head. "I said I was okay. He didn't hurt me, honestly. Just grabbed my arm." The short haired woman promised and Rick sighed disappointingly. Not everything had changed, she was still protecting him.

Ed joined his wife in making his case. "I was just visiting my woman at a store I own when you just arrested me!"

"You suggesting I shop elsewhere?" Shane said with a sneer.

"I'm suggesting you let me go before your boss gets here or I decide to tear you to pieces myself Walsh!" Another threat that just seemed to fall flat.

Shane was openly mocking the man by now, not giving a shit and enjoying it. "Yeah, yeah Ed. Keep it up. All the more for me to use to fill out that report of yours. Getting almost as thick as that skull buddy."

It was enough to cause Peletier to try and shake himself free in a futile attempt to throttle the deputy. The sudden movement and threat of attack put Rick on alert, but caused Shane to switch in an instant from laid back jeering to roughly slamming the man back down onto the bench. He was inches from Ed's face, a dangerous blank look on his usually animated face.

Rick watched them uncomfortably but in the end all Shane did was warn the man in a chilling whisper that silenced him.

"Sit tight now whilst I have a quick word with your loving wife."

Shane then warmly gestured for Carol to follow him into an adjoining room and after deciding it was best to leave Ed to stew on his own, Rick followed.

As soon they were alone, Shane's friendly façade dropped and he began harshly tearing into the small woman he was suddenly towering over. "Lemme ask you something Carol. How many times we gonna end up here? How many times huh?"

"Shane." Rick warned his friend, stepping in between him and the surprised woman. But Shane wouldn't stop, barking over his shoulder warnings they both knew by now about how Carol would not respond to gentle advice.

"You wanna end up dead, is that it? Want that sonofabitch to kill you good?"

"Shane. Back up." Rick tried again, this time more forcefully, pushing Shane back with the palms of his hands. "Now."

Despite sensing his friend's disapproval, Shane's behavior did not change, he was yelling to get the attention of a woman being shielded from his furious rants by Rick's protective form.

"Step. Away. Walsh."

The stare down didn't last long.

Irritated but with no choice but to back down to Rick's unwavering sense of authority, Shane Walsh rubbed his aggressively head then walked to the other side of the room to cool off. His dark brown eyes were still fixed onto Carol, who stepped out of Rick's shadow, looking far from intimidated by the aggressive posturing of the frustrated younger man.

A moment passed and Shane cursed under his breath before, hurriedly muttering an apology that Carol seemed to generously accept.

"Just don't go dying for him Darlin', I'm begging ya."

With that said, Shane begrudgingly left the room.

Once they were alone together, Carol thanked Rick. "I appreciate what you been doing for me Rick. And not just today."

"Don't Carol. Please." Rick said rubbing his tired eyes before letting out yet another sigh. "He's right and is probably trying to do you more of a favor than I am."

"I- I can't." Carol confessed. "He's still my husband."

"What about Sophia?" Rick asked, feeling low for using Carol's daughter against her like this but after the last time, he was really struggling to get out of his head that picture of a small, scared blonde girl taking shelter in the arms of a complete stranger from the man that raised her.

"Carl told me about her." Rick continued, now committed to the tactic of manipulating Carol in to taking action against her husband. "She's afraid of him."

For a moment Carol looked shocked and almost angry.

Rick ignored it. "She's afraid of what he'll do to you."

Carol's shoulders relaxed, the flash of anger was gone and she was breathing more easily.

Rick on the other hand couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that he had just stumbled onto something. "Carol. Is Sophia safe?"

"Y-yes." Carol said before repeating herself again without the hesitation. "I protect her Rick."

"I would never let anything happen to her."

That Rick believed, there it was again in her eyes – the steel from before.

"Okay."

"Now what do I do about him this time."

She looked back at him with pleading eyes more familiar to him and Rick knew that whatever steps he was going to take against Ed, he had to keep in mind that the man would be returning home to Carol.

"A few hours in the tank to sober up?" Rick suggested, but he could tell from Carol's face she was disappointed.

Rick smiled a little, glad to take the look as permission to continue to offer his help. Any step in the right direction, no matter how small, was one he was willing to work with. "How about the night and a fine for disorderly conduct." He said amending himself. "You can come pick him up in the morning or late afternoon. You decide."

Her eyes thanked him even if her mouth daren't just yet. Then she was out the door, to find another officer giving her statement to, determined to spare Rick the ordeal.

She'd sleep easier tonight but Rick wasn't sure if he would. The Peletier problem weighed down on him with a sort of helplessness that was starting to feel like Theodore Douglas all over again. Rick shuddered at the thought, wondering if Shane had been right that time he suggested that they needed to take matters into their own hands when it came to Ed.

Leave the badges at home one night but make sure to take their batons… _Put the fear of God into that sonofabitch._

Rick shook his head at the thought, he wasn't a vigilante. The image of hooded figures administrating their own brand of justice in this part of the world, sent a chill down his spine. The man holding a gun to Ed's neck, itching to pull the trigger - wasn't who Rick was. No matter what, he still believed in his oath, the problem was he was working in a place where it was steadily becoming meaningless. But for now, the best he could do is - on occasion, turn a blind eye and let Shane shove Ed's skull into a wall or two on the way to the drunk tank.

"This is police brutality!" Ed's yelling was supposed to garner the attention of Diane at the front desk and couple other officers.

But the middle-aged red head remained as disinterested as always.

"Call a lawyer asshole. I dare ya." She scoffed, ignoring Shane's behavior towards the prisoner in their custody.

Ed turned to Rick who had just joined them, his face filled with outrage. "You hear that Grimes? You gonna do something or what?"

Rick feigned ignorance, walking the opposite way towards his desk, but knowing very well it would be his job later to pacify the bastard so he didn't take it out on his wife.

—–

Back at his desk, Rick found an unexpected but not unwelcome visitor.

"I didn't expect to see you here." Rick said, his voice instantly lighter and his face beaming with the warmth of a genuine smile. Michonne greeted him with a small wave of her painted fingers.

"Well Officer, ain't you heard, us damn negroes just be showing up all over the place."

Rick grinned a little at her use of dark humor as an icebreaker, respecting the strength behind the choice to confront the ugliness they both had witnessed that day. But deep inside, he couldn't help but flinch at the repetition of just some of the words Ed Peletier hurled at her a couple weeks ago. He wanted to protect her from such words but wasn't naive enough to think she hadn't heard it all before.

She was in the same yellow dress he saw her in at the school. A light, flowy cotton thing that cut off at her shoulder and knees. Up close it stunned his senses. She was leaning with her round back casually pressed against the front of his desk; the fabric of her embroidered hem, flapping on the stream of air coming from the office fan and every so often moving things to reveal a little more of the shiny dark skin of her legs. Her incredible dreadlocks were pulled up into a tied up in a huge elaborate bun, revealing all of her - face, long neck and collarbone - to Rick.

Rick politely yet urgently signaled for her to take the seat opposite him, knowing he couldn't handle much more of the incredible portrait before him. It was like looking into the sun and Rick feared God would blind him for it.

She took up the offer but still wasn't making it any easier on him, the shape of breasts slightly more visible now she was seated.

Rick had to internally recall his vows knowing now there was no more pretending. His intentions towards this woman had gone beyond the duty of his office, the Christian love for thy neighbor or even the longing for simple friendship. It was lust. The terrible kind described in Hebrews 13:4; of fornication, dishonor and the defilement of the marital bed.

All things Rick Grimes wanted to so desperately indulge in.

"I'm here to see Mrs. Peletier." Michonne announced, breaking up Rick's string of indecent thoughts.

Rick tried to not look too surprised.

Of course, this woman was gonna be a saint too! She didn't need to befriend the wife of a man who treated her so despicably and yet here she was, the shine of her halo causing the devil inside Rick to stir with desire.

"How'd you know?" He asked and Michonne smiled knowingly.

"I was in town when he decided to confront her, laying his hands on her again." Michonne said bitterly. "I think he saw us talk a little while earlier."

Rick nodded sympathetically, recognizing the guilt she must've been feeling. "Is it okay that you're here?"

Michonne laughed at the worried tone he had asked her that question with.

"Where else would I be."

She wasn't easily scared off by the unsettling threats Ed Peletier had made against her and Rick secretly wished she could've been.

"It isn't your fault you know." He said, trying to absolve her of any responsibility she may have felt for Carol's heart-breaking situation. "This been happening before you moved here."

"Yeah I know how it is." She said, her voice betraying a deep, personal resentment for men like Ed. Rick couldn't help but wonder what it meant.

"You do?"

Catching herself, the frown on Michonne's face eased. "I mean – I can imagine."

Rick was forced to accept her answer and move along the conversation. It didn't feel right to pry so Rick didn't. But also, it didn't feel right to thank her, so Rick didn't do that either. Instead he just asked the Lord to protect this angelic woman from Ed Peletier's wrath until the day Carol had the courage to break free from her ordeal.

"Carol's just gotta give a statement."

Seeing Michonne move in her seat Rick quickly added. "She should be out in a moment."

"You can wait here." _With me_ , Rick almost said, stopping himself at the last second.

Again, he was graced with the warm smile of a stranger and the guilt of a wife who was slowly becoming a stranger to him. _It's harmless,_ Rick told himself. He was back to telling the lies he begun to spin when he got to the station a couple weeks ago. Once Ed had been done cursing him all the way to the usual holding cell, Rick left him in the care of his officers and raced home to Lori.

He had missed the dinner, but it didn't seem to bother his wife who had come to expect this behavior from a man who in her eyes wouldn't stop putting her second. Feeling terrible, he tried to make it up to her with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, pink daisies and a tub of cotton candy from Hershel Green's confectionery store.

Having received her gifts in front of their son, she thanked Rick politely. Opening the tub at the kitchen counter and generously sharing it with Carl despite her no sweets before a hot meal rule. The boy was excited by the sugary treat but even more by the rare treat of seeing his parents getting along, no matter how fleeting or forced it was. Once he left the room, Rick strolled over to kiss Lori as only a dedicated and loving husband could.

"It's not the same as the hot sticky smell of the fair but I still love tasting it on your mouth." His words were sincere and that's what made it all the sadder for the both of them. They made love that night, the first time in months, except it wasn't with each other but with a memory from their past.

Now weeks later, Rick was sitting in front of another woman, one that reminded him of a different kind of summer dream, deeply wondering what it would be like to taste _her_. Bring her flowers. Pull that dress off of her body and take her to bed instead.

Pushing that image out of his mind, Rick regained his senses.

"Hey, do you think you'd want to lodge a complaint about Peletier?"

Michonne looked surprised by how she suddenly becoming the subject of retribution.

"Sorry about putting you out like this by reminding you, but he did assault you. When he – uhm – spat at you and uhm – said those _things_." Rick almost regretted it as soon as he brought it up, but he couldn't help but hope that he could do something more to hurt Ed Peletier for what he perpetrated against Michonne.

"I could smack him with something. Simple assault."

Michonne appeared to think it over for a minute. When she finally spoke, "He did threaten me" was all she said.

Rick rubbed his hands together, uncharacteristically excited at the prospect of more paper work. "Okay then, let's do this Michonne. You and me."

But Michonne sighed, shaking her head gently to let him down.

"No, it's fine."

Rick frowned at the choice of words and she could sense it, quickly correcting herself.

"Well it's not fine. Far from it. But Rick – you know what I mean."

The way she used his name, so intimate and personal, Rick struggled to get mad at her. He wished he didn't know what she meant, trying to blink away the flashing image of Theodore Douglas's thoroughly broken face. His silence had begun way before that incident. But his skin, thick as hell, bled just the same.

Michonne wasn't Theodore. She wasn't pressing charges but she wasn't about to be chased out of town either. Rick could tell as much from the upright way she sat in the chair before him – not ignoring the eyes of strangers that passed by them but effectively meeting each and every stare with a deadly one of her own.

"Besides, if anything you should be thinking up ways to bring up battery charges on account of what he's been doing to Carol." Michonne was challenging him, trying once again to see what kind of man this Rick Grimes before her truly was.

"God knows I have tried." Rick said, ashamed to meet her eyes the same way he had the evening they met. "Nothing sticks without Carol."

Things were a little tense after that and it seemed as though they were both happy to be interrupted by the arrival of Shane Walsh. But having just about caught the end of their conversation, the deputy decided to weigh in his two cents on the matter.

"Georgia defines domestic violence as an act of family violence, there is still plenty that can be done." Shane insisted taking this unfamiliar woman's side, voicing his bitter disappointment in Rick's _wait and see_ stance.

"Throw that Code Title 19 at him and watch it all fall into place." Shane had begun counting down on his hands, yet missing a number of steps Rick knew the other man was aware of. "One, a family law protection order to prevent contact. Two, jail time if Ed even so much has a thought to breathe the same air as Carol. Oh and just for good measure, why not throw at him an aggravated stalking felony as a third."

Rick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with Shane's exaggerated simplification of the justice system and its ability to come through for women in the position Carol was in. But for the sake of his new audience, Michonne, Shane refused to abscond the pitch.

"She could have her house. Get him away from Sophia. Get help and get strong."

Once he had finished, Michonne turned to Rick, a questioning look in her eyes revealing that somehow in all of this, she still wanted to hear his take on things. She wanted to believe he wasn't just as Shane seemed to be inadvertently suggesting, sitting on his ass and twiddling his thumbs.

He didn't even look at his partner, responding directly only to the concerns of the woman in front of him. "I'm telling you, without Carol nothing sticks."

Shane cursed under his breath and Rick thought it best to finally make the introduction between the two people at his desk, even if it was just to change the subject.

"Michonne, this Shane Walsh. A fellow deputy here at KC."

Shane shot Michonne one his trademark charmer smiles, taking her hand for a moment longer than Rick was comfortable with. "It's good of you Michonne. What you doing for Carol, fine stuff."

Michonne thanked him, oblivious to the flirtatious twinkle in his deep brown eyes. "Wish we could be doing more."

Rick's heart sank a little at those words.

Noticing his friend's discomfort, Shane finally came to Rick's rescue.

"Yeah but what can we do. She's won't be helped. Some people will let others get away with anything."

Rick groaned inwardly at Shane's poor choice of words. As expected, Michonne's mood soured at what she perceived to be a mean-spirited jab at Carol. "She's a victim."

Shane shook his head not giving an inch. "She can _choose_ not to be."

It was enough to make Michonne stand up from her chair, jaw slightly clenched and eyes narrowed. "And he could _choose_ not to hit her all the goddamn time."

Shane held up his hands, making it clear he was acquiescing to her point. He respected her resolve with which she spoke, Rick could tell from the best friend's good-natured chuckle and the way he licked his bottom lip as he nodded.

"Yeah well I guess it's not the same when you're not carrying."

Rick eyes widened, initially confused by Shane's comment but then quickly zeroing in on what he had missed but the other lawman apparently hadn't.

The small tan handbag.

It had been hanging from Michonne's shoulder, but distracted by everything else about her Rick, hadn't noticed the way bulged with the unmistakable weight of a concealed firearm. He should've clocked it immediately, having been trained to do just that, especially the moment she slammed the bag down onto Rick's desk when she got up to confront Shane.

That thud. It was what peeked Shane's interest, his eyes not leaving the bag once. A curious smile continued to play on his lips.

"It's licensed, if that's what you're wondering Deputy." Michonne said, unable to hide the slightly nervous way her eyes scanned Shane's face.

Shane took a moment, stepping in a little closer before answering with a relaxed grin on his face.

"Oh I wasn't asking that." He said, correcting her on her assumption he needed to see her permit. His tone was equal parts playful and precarious. Rick watched the interaction in silence, his mind racing with a million possible questions regarding Michonne's weapon. _What was she afraid of? Where did she get it? Who taught an art teacher from New York how to use a gun?_

 _Did she plan on using it for a specific reason?_

Michonne's face was still, unreadable except for the way her nostrils flared slightly with every breath she took. Like Shane, she took a moment before carefully whispering her response in a voice equally deceptive in its sweet delivery of words.

"Well then, to your earlier question I say, let 'em try something."

"Attagirl." Shane burst out into hearty laughter, breaking the tense stalemate and turning to Rick for the first time in a while. "Let 'em come she says. Well ain't that something!"

"Sure." Rick smiled weakly. He was struggling to understand his partner's reaction just the same as he did Michonne's.

"Well – Michonne was it? Michonne, I'm sure Carol left a little while ago. If you hurry you just may catch up with her a little further down the road."

"I best get gone then." Michonne said gathering her things immediately. Shane, who stood in her way a moment ago, turned to let her pass and like a gentleman extended his arm, showing her to the door. She returned the unnecessarily chivalrous gesture with a brisk nod before turning to say a far warmer goodbye to Rick.

She was about to disappear when Rick felt overcome by the urge to call out for her.

Having stopped her in her tracks, he felt suddenly pressured with the need to say something important.

"I'll be keeping an eye out." Rick's declaration was met with a suspicious eye raise from Michonne. "I meant for the bear."

"Just thought I'd let you know." He said finally, catching himself once again crossing a line. Shane stood by looking slightly perplexed by the turn in conversation.

Michonne smiled, another warm one, just for him and Rick felt himself melt a little.

"Sure you ain't got nothing better to be doing?" She teased and Rick felt the need to return the jest.

"Mr. Bear is my top priority. I'm determined to bring to justice anyone involved in his disappearance."

"Alright. I'll leave you to it then. Deputy Grimes. Hero."

And with a final but earnest nod she disappeared.

Rick was still watching the empty space by the door Michonne left through, when he noticed Shane was staring back at him with a raised brow. Promptly deciding to ignore the questions that were playing on his friend's mind, Rick busied himself with the mount of paper work he had been neglected in favor of Michonne's company. He was relieved to find his friend didn't push for any further explanation, but that didn't stop the man from putting Rick under the microscope for the rest of their shift. When the day ended, so, Rick was relieved to find, did Shane's watchfulness. His friend seemed to have forgotten the mysterious woman from just a couple hours before, instead looking forward to a cold end of work beer.

Rick, however, decided to blow Shane off on his offer to head down to Ford's for the treat. It was an innocuous tradition whenever they worked on Saturdays, but after today's events, Rick couldn't shake the suspicion that it was a ruse of sorts so Shane could undoubtedly resume his questioning.

No, Rick instead reminded his friend that he had a _loving_ wife and son to get home to.

Shane shrugged and cracked a joke about making sure to _get some_ on behalf of his sad, single self who would be left with no choice but to try his luck at Ford's tonight. Rick forced a laugh and then they said their goodbyes.

Get some, thought Rick on his drive home, what was the point of that crude phrase anyway? What did it even mean, sexual gratification? Validation? Unburdening? Was that what he was after? A month ago, he would've answered yes with little hesitation. After the frustrating lack of _some_ in the months before the night he brought home cotton candy and cajoled his wife into joining him under the covers - it was all he thought they needed to feel close again.

But then they disconnected, each rolling over to their own side of the bed. Feeling nothing was given and everything was lost.

Heartbroken by that thought and unable to pull up and into his own drive, Rick made the decision to drive on. Breaking his promise to Shane, he drove past his home, leaving in his rear view Lori and the dark vacuum that was his side of the bed; choosing the more gratifying road of looking for a simple, scrawny stuffed bear instead. A lost toy, Rick didn't realize at the time, that was somehow meant to fill an even greater, more soul-sucking emptiness for a grieving mother. The shape of a deceased toddler's cot.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Beta'd by the lovely and always supportive Siancore. The heart and soul of the Richonne fandom we don't deserve.

 **3\. Worse**

Rick abandoned his fruitless teddy bear rescue mission pretty soon after it began. All it took first was an unexpected phone call from his own son to put him to shame. Made impatient by his excitement and wanting to share a piece of news his mother had insisted could wait, Carl Grimes' determined dialling unwittingly drew his delusional dad back to the real world of professional boundaries and paternal promises.

"Carl what did I tell you about bothering your father at work?"

"But mom! I just wanna know when he'll be back!"

"In his own time."

 _In his own time._

Rick felt the slight from miles away. An attack on his fatherhood, his commitment to his duties. It was the first time Lori had brought their battle to the 'Carl front'. The humiliation of listening helplessly over the line was unbearable to Rick, a man who prided himself in his relationship with _his_ boy, _his_ entire world – _the center of the universe_

Propelled into action by his hurt and in a desperate bid to prevent any further sullying of his good name, Rick raced all the way home – driving with very little regard to the traffic laws he was charged with reinforcing daily. Halfway into his journey, the righteous anger he felt dissipated, and he was left with an uncomfortable truth – Lori wasn't wrong.

He had a son, a little boy of his own, and whilst Michonne was out there, earning her points as a parent, he had to be _dragged_ back to his. It wasn't right, Rick thought angrily, cursing himself, and not Lori this time, for the situation he had gotten himself into. What was he going to do anyway? Kick down his front door in a fit of rage and proceed to throw down with the mother of his child in front of said child? Over what? A comment that may have been just that – a comment. Entirely harmless, except against his ego, thus rousing his defensiveness.

Rick was exhausted; he hadn't even walked through the door yet and he was already done with this. He thought back to little Sophia, caught up in a world of hurt by the state of her parents' marriage, and he shivered at the thought of ever inflicting a different kind of damage onto his own child.

As inexcusable as it was, sooner rather than later, the tension between him and his wife would overflow and impact Carl's blissful childhood existence. Rick could feel it in his bones, the breaking point approaching. The day he would slip up as a Christian and disrespect his once beloved bride by calling her a fucking spiteful bitch. And Carl would hear him and be forever changed by it.

 _Unless he put a stop to it first._

There it was again, slithering across his mind. A shameful snake of a thought telling him to go against all he promised before God and a congregation of witnesses.

 _Divorce._

Rick shuddered at the thought, at losing his family, at bailing on them when things got tough. At ever seeing his son look back at him with weary, world worn eyes instead of the innocent, twinkling blue ones that lit up every time Rick walked through the door.

"Dad!"

"Hey there, champ," Rick yelled back, the cheer in his voice overcompensating for a guilt that sought to choke him. "Heard you had a story for me?"

Carl was twelve, but that didn't stop him from jumping into Rick's arms with a jubilant smile on his young face. He was overjoyed to see his father back so soon after his phone call; not bearing an ounce of ill will for Rick being away for so long in the first place. Rick clung to his son, his perfect little boy, grateful for the hero's welcome he knew he didn't deserve and knowing to cherish it whilst it lasted. Over Carl's shoulder, loomed Lori looking less than thrilled by her husband's return.

"Sorry I'm late," Rick mouthed to her, half expecting the apology not to take, but it did.

Lori Grimes simply shrugged her thin shoulders before leaving for their kitchen. A begrudging acceptance of the situation was all she could muster for him, and Rick immediately knew why: She had been hoping for another hour without him. Rick sighed mournfully.

 _How did they get here and how does it end?_

"Okay dad, you can let go now," Carl said, interrupting Rick's thoughts regarding the dark state of his marriage. The not-quite teen playfully squirmed free from the man who continued to cling onto him, completely unaware of his new existence as a sad relic of a once happy marriage. Embarrassed, Rick quickly apologized and ushered his son to tell his tale.

"My piece got picked for the gallery! Everyone's coming to see it and I need you guys to be free on Thursday. This coming one not the next. At seven."

That was all Carl said but Rick was already lost.

"The _what_ now?"

"At school," Carl said, sounding frustrated with his father's inability to extract the relevant details that made up this supposed good news from the excitable ramblings. Rolling his eyes impatiently, Carl started from the beginning.

"We have a new art teacher. Ms. Anthony."

"Yes, son, that I'm aware of," Rick said, unable to help himself but careful not to betray anything further regarding Michonne.

"Yeah she's from New York and so cool and different. Like _waaay_ more interesting than Mrs. Randal. Man was she a pain! Dad, we were painting bowls of fruit over and over and over again. Things were that bad."

"Hey now, don't be so harsh on old Mrs. Randal, Carl. She's a kindly old woman."

"Yeah, but I'm glad she retired, because if I had to paint one more apple – I would've gladly had a stroke too!"

Rick shamefully chuckled at Mrs. Randal's expense. His son's declaration was undoubtedly dramatic as old Testament damnation. But he was glad to hear Michonne brought some much needed vigor to her new role and ditched the cumbersome curriculum of her predecessor. Back at school, he was never a fan of art and he had a sneaking suspicion the blame lay at Old Lady Randal's feet then too.

"Anyway, Ms. Anthony is awesome. We started a new art project two months ago and she promised if all do great job we'd get to display our work in our own gallery – like the Metropolitan, but right here at Henry Ellis!"

Rick clapped his hands right on cue, signalling to his son how incredibly impressed he was. And in all honesty, he was, especially with how fast Michonne was working to make her stamp on this town. She really was something special.

"And when did your school get a swanky new space for the display of art?"

Carl laughed heartily at the way his father continued to feign ignorance just for his amusement, and Rick grinned back, pleased to make his son's face beam.

"It'll only be for one evening. We get to turn the gym into one with movable screens to divide it up, and then lights on like stands, so people can really see the art. Oh and there will be snacks, for the guests – the moms and dads."

"Wow! And you're saying your piece got picked for this event? That's amazing."

Carl's body shifted uncomfortably at Rick's praise. "Well – we all get to display our work because it's a class thing," he confessed finally, for a moment looking slightly embarrassed at exaggerating his own importance.

"I'm sure your piece will be the best one there," Rick said, reassuring his son, as a parent would, but acutely aware that knowing Carl, he would be proven right. The kid had talent; he had been drawing on any and all surfaces since the day he was big enough to pick up his first crayon. It used to drive Rick and Lori nuts, trying to keep Carl's artistic sensibilities within the confines of a sketchpad, but as the years went on, Rick was glad they never did anything to stop him.

His father's praise had a reinvigorating effect on the boy, and Carl returned to gushing about the upcoming event.

"Ms. Anthony did say mine had _real potential_. She said I get to put my piece in the center spot because she was so impressed with it."

"That's my boy! Up top!"

Lori walked back into the hallway just in time to witness the celebratory high five between the Grimes men, and Rick was pleased to see her approval. They shared a quiet moment of pure parental pride, glad to shower their son with love, for he was a tribute to the heights they could achieve when their partnership worked.

"We're all so proud of you, sweety," said Lori.

Carl thanked his mother with a hug and it was just as welcoming a sight to Rick as his high-five had been to her. This was worth fighting for, Rick reminded himself, determined to etch this image into his mind for the next time he would be overcome with doubt.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can I call Shane now that dad knows? You said I could tell him once I told dad."

Lori's face changed at Carl's request. There was an awkward pause before she answered with a tense smile on her face. "Sure baby."

"You know the number still?"

"Duh," Carl said sarcastically before correcting himself for fear of repercussions for his tone. "I mean yes, mom."

Lori sighed before laying out her terms. "Are you going to make sure to head straight up afterwards? Because I need you in your bed in fifteen minutes."

Carl happily agreed with his mother's request.

"Okay then, you can go call Shane," Lori said finally, dismissing Carl who dashed out the room the moment right after the first word and nod.

Left behind with his wife, Rick could feel the stillness in the air.

The mention of his best friend's name shouldn't have had this effect on them, and yet, Rick could feel something was hideously off. Lori looked back at him with brown uncertain eyes and Rick couldn't make sense of why. Or he didn't want to. He wanted to go back to the glorious picture of domestic bliss from mere moments ago.

"He expects us to attend this event. The both of us, together."

She spoke to him with none of that artificial sweetness she saved for him whenever Carl was in their presence.

"And Shane?" Rick regretted it as soon as he asked. His distressed heart cried out for him to stop pursuing this line of questioning.

"He said he'd ask him. I told him not to bother him," Lori said, arms folded over her chest a little too defensive to be casual.

Rick let out a small laugh. There was nothing funny about it. "Why Lori? He's family. Why shouldn't he attend his godson's art exhibition."

"Oh, don't Rick. Don't."

Lori turned on her heel, ready to retreat to the kitchen and leave the start of another argument. But Rick Grimes refused to be left behind.

"What, Lori? What is it that I am doing?" He demanded, following his wife into the kitchen and making sure to shut the door behind him.

Lori swung back around to face her husband, confronting him in a low angry whisper so as to not attract their son's attention. They were so well rehearsed in their bouts, they had specific modes. This was not to be one of their earth shattering "To hell with the neighbors, Carl is at school so bring your worst darling" clashes.

"This!" Lori hissed in a tactically low voice, carrying all the irritation or a much louder one. "You're making me feel bad for trying to spare you your feelings."

Rick let out an empty gasp to convey his utter surprise. "Since when? Also, what feelings?"

"It's not _my_ fault that your son loves your best friend. You shouldn't have a problem with that!" Lori continued, serving up the outrage in tightly contained manner.

Again, none of this was making sense to Rick. He could barely follow the turn this conversation suddenly had taken.

"I don't have a problem with it, Lori," he said, answering honestly and somewhat calmly. "But you seem to. Why wasn't it okay for Carl to call his buddy Shane to tell him his good news? Why do you think that would bother me?"

Rick felt he made his question clear enough for his wife, and for a moment, with perhaps nowhere to hide, Lori Grimes was silenced.

He didn't relish in point scoring during arguments, especially when all he wanted was a sincere response. Lori seemed to agree with him. She ran her hands through her long, messy brown waves; her hair looking more and more frazzled these days to match the unkempt stubble on his chin. The toll of an unhappy home life was becoming apparent on their faces. Leaning against the kitchen counter, she finally answered.

"I don't know why, Rick, I don't know why anything bothers you anymore these days. It just does."

Rick bit his lip angrily at the disgraceful attempt at deflection.

"No Lori. You don't get that do that. Not this time."

The clatter of one unwashed pot against after that Rick sent it went flying into the sink shocked Lori for a moment. But then she let out a completely unironic cackle.

"Do what? Walk on eggshells?" Lori cried, barely able to contain her outrage pointing at her husband's behavior as another exhibit to enter into evidence.

Breathing heavily, Rick wiped the splash back of water droplets from his face. He wasn't angry, he told himself, knowing he was barely keeping it together.

"What's that? Missed my head?"

"Don't," Rick whispered the blood draining from his face.

She knew he would never but said it anyway.

 _How could she._

Needing a break after landing such a blow, Lori bowed over a little. Her hands resting on her knees and her face artfully hidden under a mess of dark hair instead of owning up to the cruelty of her comments. Rick could hear her sob a little, but was in no mood to comfort her.

"Fine. I'm the bad guy," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. "What else is new?"

"No, I am. And I'll go on being the bad guy, Rick," Lori said, straightening up and staring Rick in the eye. She had a pathetic, exhausted look on her face but an iron will and a tone that matched. Lori had been done recharging her artilleries. "I'll be the bad guy. For caring about my husband. For wanting him not to be bothered at work until he's done. For making sure his son doesn't forget to tell his father news that matters first! A man he barely sees these days anyway!"

Rick took a step back, unprepared, he had been wounded by the accusation of neglect on his part.

"I know I've been busy," Rick admitted, feeling sorry for himself and his actions. This was an argument he had lost back in the car. There was no point in hiding that fact.

"You have," Lori replied, relentless in her criticism, not yet knowing she had overreached and Rick wasn't done.

"But that's not what's going on here," said Rick. He was ready to bring the argument back to his original point.

"And what is then Rick?" Lori asked.

After a pregnant pause, Rick decided to come out with it.

"You don't have to keep Carl from Shane."

 _Unless there is another reason._

But Rick was momentarily stunned into silence by his wife's speedy interruption. "Okay. I won't, but you don't have to keep forcing yourself to be here."

King of self-imposed amnesia, Rick Grimes ran with the subject change, no longer sure what he was getting at in the first place. Instead he decided that this would be the moment. One that called for a new kind of weapon – sincere openness.

"I'm not. Lori," he said softly, moving towards his wife slowly. "I want to be here, I want to be with my son."

Rick paused for a moment before adding the rest. "And I want to be with my wife, if she'll let me."

Lori did nothing to answer her husband's plea, flinching the moment her reached out to hold her hand. And it was enough for Rick to know that he was on his own in manning the scaffoldings that kept his marriage from falling. Lori would never leave him, but she would never stop trying to drive him out.

"I have to go check on Carl. Make sure he washed up before bed."

Both resigned to their fate for the only reason they could offer up, Lori made way towards the door.

Rick hesitated for a moment before calling out to his wife one more time.

"Lori?"

She didn't turn around to face him, but briefly stopped at the door regardless.

 _Never an inch._

Rick sighed and swallowed his true words for empty ones. "Tell him I'll be up in a minute to say goodn-."

She was gone before he had finished.

Rick waited until Lori returned downstairs before going up to see his son. He wolfed down the night's leftovers, unheated pasta straight from the plastic container in the fridge, before sprinting up the stairs and into Carl's room.

"Hey kiddo, you all tucked in?"

Carl groaned at his father's babying of him. Rick knew it must've looked strange having one parent enter the room, just as soon as the other left.

"You know I'm too old for tuck-ins dad."

Rick chuckled at his son's response. "Like heck you are."

"You can say hell."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "I know _I_ can."

"But I can't," Carl grumbled, sinking further into his bed at the injustice.

"Yep and don't you forget it."

It was always a little disconcerting how quickly the boy in front of him changed. Less than an hour ago, he was flying into Rick's arms the way he always had. Here, they were embarrassing him at the mere thought of a tuck in and pushing his luck with curse words.

Rick wondered if Shane would let Carl swear around him. Maybe that's what made the kid idolize the carefree, cool cop when compared to stuffy straight and narrow old man. The thought irked him and led him down a rabbit hole he so desperately wished to avoid.

"Hey, by the way, what did Shane say when you called?"

"Not much. It was loud where he was but he said he would come."

The boy was downplaying how disappointed he was that his godfather didn't make a bigger deal about the news. But knowing his friend, Rick imagined the man was three beers in already and in the mood to do the kind of adult entertaining Carl's phone call was keeping him from.

It brought a small petty smile to his face; Carl may think the world of Shane and on the right day his godfather thought the same – but the boy only had one father and that was boring old Rick.

"Hey, proud of you son," Rick said, repeating himself but each time meaning it just the same. "Now I might not get the _finer details_ of something as _out there_ as art, but I know talent when I see it."

"Thanks," Carl replied with a look of genuine affection on his face for Rick's hammy, dorky dad act.

Rick looked at Carl's room, covered in a visual history of his son's artistic journey, from original comic book creations and creepy crawlers to sketches of friends, family and fellow townspeople. He had no idea where his son's artistic sensibilities had come from, it sure as hell didn't run in the Grimes family line. But unlike the men that came before him, Rick was supportive of his son's endeavour. Proud of his creative capabilities and his thoughtful, imaginative nature. As was Lori, and he was grateful to hear Michonne now too.

"So…Any hints as to what this masterpiece of yours is like?"

"You're just gonna have to wait until opening night, like everyone else."

"Wow, that's cold, son," Rick gasped, getting up from Carl's bed and stumbling to door in an exaggerated manner of a wounded soldier.

"Hey dad?" Rick heard Carl call out for him. He turned to face his son, completely serious and ready to attend to his needs. "Just don't make things weird for me at school."

Not knowing how to respond, Rick simply nodded before hitting the light switch off and leaving the room, his anxious mind wondering if Shane had received such a warning from the surly teen that was threatening to take his sweet son's place. Somehow, feeling every bit as wounded as he had pretended to be just a few moments ago, Rick Grimes knew the answer was no and all that did was make him want to take off his oldest friend's head with the dirty pot his wife thought was meant for her.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ _I was in two minds about posting this but I got so much love it seemed unfair not to. I haven't discontinued this story. I just needed a break because I stopped having fun. you may have seen me try writing other fics in other smaller fandoms. that really helped me want to come back to write this. give it another shot. Thanks for your patience._

 **4\. On display**

The week leading up to the art exhibition had been an uneventful one. After a month of rising tension at work and at home, Rick Grimes welcomed the comforting coldness of tedium. He and Lori had returned to their routine of forced niceties and strategic avoidance. There would be no pink daisies this time to bring about an armistice; the war was familiar and frosty, Rick's skin was numb enough to withstand it for now. Resigned to this life, he did his best not to set off any landmines, leaving Lori to her own devices and avoiding any sensitive topics – which now included any mention of the best man at their hapless wedding, Shane Walsh.

Avoidance was simply not option at work and as per usual on Monday morning, Deputy Sherriff Walsh waltzed into the station ready to regale a tale of his weekend wickedness to his best friend. He greeted Rick at his desk, completely self-centred and oblivious to the mix of unexplained rage and frustration seething inside his purposefully, 'busy at work' partner. With an ill-considered smile on his handsome face, Shane continued to happily babble away only pausing for a beat to receive a laconic response from his audience of one.

"What's with you brother?"

 _Brother._

Rick felt the word like a kick to the stomach. He looked into Shane's dark eyes for any sign of hypocrisy but found honest concern. The question was a simple one and yet Rick had no simple answer. At this point he wasn't even completely sure what it was that he was asking.

Flashes of sinister and suggestive thoughts plagued him from time to time, with taunts that his unshakable truth was being tested by a known tear in his marriage. Was doubt destined to destroy every one of his most significant relationships? Shattered faith in his only sweetheart. Then for good measure, contaminate a friendship with a man who has on more than one occasion shown a willingness to take a bullet for Rick.

Unable to vocalize his thoughts, Rick simply gritted his teeth, massaged his temples and explained away his mood as a symptom of an oncoming migraine.

His best friend responded with sincere sympathy and complete understanding, offering to share the packet of painkillers he kept in his drawer, a lesson learned from mixing liquor with long nights.

Rick declined politely, explaining he was getting used to it, feeling somewhat more relaxed by the gesture, and following it up by reminding himself that he was loved by this man.

"Well," Shane said chuckling at Rick's unnecessary suffering, "That's what marriage and a kid does to a man!"

Again, the words had the effect of twisting Rick's guts but before he could respond Shane got up from his desk and disappeared for a moment. Rick didn't have more than a second to breathe before the younger man returned.

"Here you go." Shane told him throwing Rick a leaf of painkillers. "Only headache I'll be nursing from now until forever is the sweet side effect of regularly indulging in vice."

Rick barely mustered a thank you, before making his excuses and executing his very own, more lasting disappearing act.

Once Rick managed to push away the dark thoughts of the day, he got through Monday with minimal emotion. Shane was preoccupied for a good chunk of the day and as was Rick. He didn't need to make any further excuses, not when as had the _most Monday_ Monday of all Mondays. In a twist of events, Tuesday turned out to be Monday too. Work kept coming and Rick kept going until the two days bled into each other, each ending without incident. When it was time to head home and crawl into bed, he did just that. Made it, Rick thought as he let slumber take him. He managed to keep cooler than Lori's side of the bed.

Wednesday was dedicated to the Peletier situation or now 'mystery' as Rick Grimes began to suspect things weren't back to usual for Carol and Ed. He had been chasing down Ed Peletier's release forms when he found out from Diane that the man was in his cell until early Monday morning, despite Carol's promise to pick him up herself.

"So she didn't come for him? At all?" Rick asked, afraid he must have misheard his colleague's words. Diane's lips curved into a proud smile. "She did not."

This news surprised Rick greatly, but it pleased him too. However, unsure whether it was just a small act of independence or something he ought to be concerned about, he decided it was worth a follow up.

Just to be safe.

Rick wasn't sure what he expected to find when he got into his car after work that day and drove down to Carol's store to check on her; but he sure as hell wasn't prepared for what he did spot in the store window.

Carol was behind the counter in her usual brown grocer's apron and a loose white shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary there, except – she was casually chatting to Michonne, a woman her husband threatened her to stay away from. From the look of the things, Michonne hadn't come into the store for groceries at all. In fact, she sat in a chair behind the counter, sipping at a tall glass of cool ice tea whilst Carol served another customer – a father and his playful toddler. The pepper haired, petite woman rang up the items and packed them expertly in a paper bag before sweetly waving goodbye to the young child in the pushchair. Her soft eyes followed them out the door where she caught a glimpse of Rick standing outside.

Carol greeted him with a wide, welcoming smile and Rick felt ushered to enter the store and greet her properly, but he didn't, opting to politely tip his hat instead and moving along swiftly as if on some other more important 'police business'.

As he rushed to walk past the open glass door, he was left with no option but to stop for a moment. He muttered a quick hello, to both women, making sure not to make any extended eye contact with them – especially Michonne.

It was an awkward exchange because even behind the counter and barely visible, even with the briefest of glances, her presence made him hyper conscious. Her every detail popped out at him, making him uncomfortable in his own skin. Her dreads hanging casually off her shoulder; her full lips, a bright pink matching the tiny flowers stitched onto the pale blue blouse she wore; her legs, long and relaxed in brown loose slacks with a familiar brown bag balancing carefully on the lap.

She's still carrying. Troublingly, patting the purse like a support animal. Yet, instead of asking the million questions playing on his mind, Rick kept walking.

He could hear the two women continue conversing and the moment he was out of sight the conversation turned to him. However reprehensible, he couldn't help but remain out of view and listen in for a while.

"…was strange." Carol whispered making it clear she too felt somewhat shameful undertaking in such gossipy behavior.

"You think?" Michonne said louder and more casually.

"Yeah, he didn't even say hello."

 _I did._ Rick thought rather pettily but he did not need to come to his own defense.

"Well he _did_ Carol. Literally just said it."

"Maybe in New York that passes for manners but not here." Carol corrected Michonne and Rick knew then he needed to seriously work on his poker face.

Michonne remained unconvinced. "He's a busy man I guess."

"He's a good man, always makes time." Carol continued surprising Rick who was feeling anything _but_ good at this very moment. "Ed doesn't like to show it but I know he's jealous of him. He's a real man. A good husband and father."

"Good for him."

Rick wishes he could've seen Michonne's face to be sure, but his ears were certain in what they detected. A hint of bitterness in the background of her reply.

"Yeah they're lucky. I see his wife sometimes, Lori, she's a sweet girl. Back in kindergarten, their son Carl used to come round to play with Sophie. Then Ed was Ed and scared him away."

"I'm sorry."

The usual sympathetic quality returned to Michonne's voice. Rick struggled to understand what brought on that bitterness earlier; for when he heard the same in Carol's voice a moment ago, it was the justifiable pain of living with someone considered in all books 'a bad husband and father'. He didn't have long to dwell on things before Carol spoke again and Rick felt immense remorse at her earlier confession. The truth was, Carol was only half right. Carl wasn't so easily scared away from his friendship with Sophia – it was Lori and him who made the decision for the boy.

"It's okay. They're still friends. Or at least friendly."

"Pity does that. Too pungent to be any closer."

"Is that why you don't want anyone knowing about Mike? You don't want their pity?"

 _Mike._ Finally, a nugget of new information. Something to satisfy or merely spur on Rick's inquisitive nature _. Mike._

When Michonne answered, it was softly and sadly – with a dash more unspoken bitterness for Rick to mull over. Michonne had a _Mike_ and it wasn't a happy tale.

"I'm not sure anyone would think I deserved any pity."

"Michonne."

"Oh God, I blame you and your splash of something special. I should've stuck to water."

"Yeah but where's the fun in that?"

"Girl, where's the fun in this?"

Upon hearing the pity present in her friend's voice, Michonne let conversation die in favor of laughter and lightness, leaving Rick with no reason to remain. Pensive, he wandered back to his car preoccupied with answers that never seemed to materialize and questions he knew he couldn't ask.

On Wednesday, Rick toyed with the idea of dropping in on Ed Peletier at his place of work but was saved the drive down when Diane, ever plugged in to the latest town gossip, casually mentioned there had been no sighting of the brutish man for a few days now. Relieved, Rick realized he'd just gotten one answer; why Carol Peletier suddenly felt brave enough to so publicly defy her husband with company he forbade her to keep. Recalling the clear and heartening sound of gleeful giggles at the usually grim grocery store, Rick Grimes sincerely hoped the man would never return.

Then came Thursday, the opening night of the Henry Ellis Middle School Contemporary Art Gallery. For one night only! After almost an entire week of artfully dodging his family drama, Rick Grimes had to prepare himself for all of it – at once.

Lori. Shane and him.

Three hours in a gymnasium at Carl's school, in the presence of the boy and all his friends.

And Michonne, a small voice in the back of Rick's mind added. Don't forget her.

He drove down, straight after work, with Shane in the car and his stomach in knots again. They hadn't been alone together all week. Rick made sure of that.

He toyed with the idea of turning the dial on the radio to any station on this green earth so he'd be spared the pain of pretense at least for another fifteen minutes. But then Rick thought better than to set off Shane, a big talker when in the passenger seat and a pretty perceptive lawman.

"So what kind of pieces you think will be on show tonight?" Shane chimed right on cue. "Cuz I'm not a big fan of all that big splosh of red paint on blank canvases shit. Anyone who had a mama with a lick of common sense knows that modern art is a con."

Rick replied with an indifferent grunt, focussing on the road ahead.

"Hey, d'you think that Michonne will be there tonight?"

Rick bit down his lip for a moment before responding calmly, making sure not to rise to the bait being dangled in front of him "I expect she will. She's the art teacher, it's her event."

"What do you think her deal is?" Shane said following up in predictable fashion and putting Rick on further alert.

"Her deal?"

Rick could hear Shane chuckle softly before coming out with what he'd been pressing at.

"Don't tell me that concealed weapon didn't strike as suspicious as hell.

"She has a permit." Rick said simply and Shane laughed again.

"Oh so it's gonna like that huh?" He said turning his entire body towards Rick. No longer able to ignore him, Rick shot the man next him a quick, dirty glance.

"Excuse me?"

Either oblivious or unconcerned by the look, Shane maintained his course. "I get it man. I got eyes too. She's hot so she's above questioning."

He wasn't sure when he became so cynical as to doubt everything Shane Walsh did, but right then Rick's gut told him the accusation being lobbied at him by his supposed best friend was expertly constructed to rile him up. Well, it worked.

Rick Grimes was furious.

"No, she's just some art teacher." Rick kept his voice as steady as he could but he was done playing defense. "Name me someone not carrying in this town and I'll listen."

Shane shrugged slightly, a smile playing on a mouth he kept thoroughly shut. Instead, he watched Rick, who deep down knew that he too should've been that smart.

"Why so interested partner? You got a horse in this race? If not, you oughta mind your own business. I got eyes too and from what they saw, she didn't take too kindly to your prying last time you met."

It came out a whole lot more menacing than Rick had intended, but the message had been sent and the recipient appeared sufficiently informed of whatever it was he was looking to discover tonight. Rick played his hand to soon and something told him he'd come to regret his short-sightedness before the end of the night.

"Ouch," Shane said light-heartedly, the truth in his dark eyes concealed by the harsh amber light, the last glimmers of sun. Rick focussed back onto the road.

"Feels like I should take that personally buddy – except I just was about to ask you why we ain't picking up Lori so maybe – _just maybe_ , there is some truth to your words.

Things always appeared to bounce off Shane, until suddenly, they didn't. Rick was glad his words didn't escalate the situation, but he knew his friend well enough to see his kind of misdirection coming from a mile. Michonne wasn't the true goal.

His marriage was.

"I asked her but she said she had a stop to make."

Both of those things were lies. But Shane bought it – for now.

When they finally arrived, the parking lot was filled with seven graders, their parents and siblings, dressed in their finest and Rick felt like a fool rolling up still in his uniform.

Shane elbowed him playfully and whispered. "Man, I can't believe we showed up in the same outfit. This is some Grade A embarrassing shit."

Just like that, they were laughing together, loudly. And Rick Grimes was forced to leave his bad mood behind in the car.

Once they got inside, Rick was amazed to find the school gym had been completely transformed. Where there once stood run of the mill bleachers and a sports court with a series of colorful lines, now appeared a slick, pop-up art gallery. A maze of white screens, arranged expertly to showcase the art the children created, each piece far more professional looking than Rick had anticipated.

From the lack of wisecracking beside him, Rick could tell Shane too was convinced tonight wouldn't be the waste of time he dreaded. The place was beautifully lit by dim fairy lights but each work by each child had a spot light of its own, exposing it to maximum light without hurting the thought that went into creating a special atmosphere.

When Rick finally saw Michonne she was working a room full of impressed parents. Like Theo before her, she had begrudgingly won them over with her charm and 'usefulness'. She was a vision of beauty, causing Shane to shamefully whistle as they approached her.

Michonne was in a chic cream jumpsuit, her toned arms bare, with a single bracelet and matching rings on one hand and a small sparkling diamond wristwatch on the other. She wore rose gold earrings dangling from each ear, her neckline exposed and her hair tied up.

Then Rick saw it, the one thing wrong with the picture – the brown handbag hanging from her shoulder instead of a matching clutch bag in her hands.

She taught his son here. Carrying that thing.

That's when Rick decided. The next time they were alone, he was going to broach the subject. Anxiety ate away at his stomach as he imagined what trouble it was this beautiful woman was expecting to follow her into a school of all places.

"Michonne."

Shane greeted her first, leaning in to kiss her cheek, curving a single strong arm around her back as he did. It was an action that surprised the woman, but she smiled politely and in return kissed the air next his cheek.

Rick felt pressured to follow suit. This didn't seem like a handshake kind of event.

He was convinced the quick peck lasted an age. The tension in the air rising noticeably as he felt Shane's eyes on him. But as Rick leaned in, he extended both his arms, pulling Michonne in for a fuller embrace than planned. He aimed for her cheek, connected warmly and gently but found himself hovering over her mouth for a second when he moved away. Her eyes followed suit, first landing on his lips then locking onto his blue ones.

He held her still in his arms, for longer than he had any right to and he felt her stiffen. Just when he believed she would pull away from him, she leaned right back in and connected her soft full lips with his cheek.

The impression it left burnt. No doubt leaving behind a faint pink stain of disgrace for everyone else to see.

Yet Rick didn't feel the need to immediately wipe away at the place she marked him; and for that and all the other thoughts crossing his mind, a mix of shame and sadness rose inside him

When it ended, Rick could see, from the corner of his eye, that Shane Walsh had been watching them the entire time. Feeling like an idiot who just fell for a trap that had been carefully up set for him, Rick cursed himself inwardly.

Was Shane always this dastardly or was he projecting his own fears onto a man innocent of wrongdoing or carefully thought out duplicity.

"This is all so impressive." Rick finally said, breaking the tension by returning the topic to the reason why they'd all gathered in the first place.

Michonne smiled warmly, her face far more unbothered by Shane's scrutinizing eyes. "Thank you. The kids worked hard all week. I just climbed the ladder."

Rick couldn't help himself but continue to laud her with admiration. "Well you bring the best out of them. My son couldn't stop talking about it."

"Ah yes, Carl."

Rick nodded, his mind transported to the time he saw them together after school.

"He's a great kid," Michonne said, her voice full of genuine affection for his son. "Volunteered to stay behind after school and set up. He has great natural affinity for art, a great eye."

"He's over there, guarding his piece." She pointed to his son in the center of the room surrounded by a group of admirers. "He really does take pride in the work and he should."

Shane's face was beaming with pride too as all three of them grinned at the boy caught up in his own little world. "Aw the little show off, working the room in his little bow tie. My man."

With that Shane abandoned Rick and Michonne to go find his other best friend. Rick felt a little twitch in his heart as he watched another man embrace his son first. The sound of high fives and loud roaring filled the room and seeing the happiness on Carl's face, Rick pushed aside his own fears about a future that felt less and less like a fable and more and more like fact.

He felt Michonne's gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to this moment.

"We're all very proud of him." She whispered beside him.

Rick turned slightly to face her, feeling a sudden burst of courage to cover her hand with his. He shot her a grateful smile and prayed to God she couldn't read the contents of his heart. Or worse, he hers.

Averting her eyes suddenly, Michonne cleared her throat before asking a question with an even more sobering effect than the last. "Will Carl's mother be joining us?"

Instantly disconnecting. Rick answered with lowered eyes of his own

"Yep, she's just running a little late."

"I see."

They were suddenly standing shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed on Carl and Shane – a healthy and crucial gap between them.

Rick felt his throat burn uncomfortably.

"She can't wait to meet you." He said without any real thought.

If Michonne knew he was blatantly fabricating Lori's interest in meeting her, she didn't let on. Instead he heard her clear her own throat uncomfortable too.

"Looking forward to it."

"Yep."

"I'll give you guys a tour once you're all together."

"Sounds great." Rick said thinking the exact opposite.

The silences between them were lasting much longer now and Rick wondered why he didn't just follow Shane to go greet his son. Just as he thought it, Carl spotted him in the distance with Michonne and waved. Rick smiled in an unfamiliar and incredibly overzealous fashion hoping the boy would have the sense to come join them.

But Carl, as easily distracted as all kids his age were, only had time for his buddy Shane. The young boy was in the middle of showing around the fellow deputy sheriff as if he were a piece of art himself.

"Great kid."

He heard Michonne awkwardly murmur beside him, her voice this time quite stilted, the goal clearly to just try and break up the prolonged silence.

Having had enough of the unnecessary yet noticeable discomfort between them, Rick decided to turn to face the woman fully. He was a grown man capable of restraint and polite conversation and by God, that's what he was going to show her tonight.

A good time. Or so to speak.

"So how have you been?" Rick asked lamely.

"Good."

"Settled okay?"

Michonne smiled wryly at the question. "I was told like a duck takes to water."

Rick laughed at the expression coming from those lips, those enticing lips. Drawn to them, to her and lost in the moment, he took another step closer before whispering in her ear longingly.

"Must be the most charming duck I've ever laid my eyes on then."

Michonne flinched, waking up Rick to what he'd just done.

"Rick."

Instantly mortified, Rick's heart hammered at his chest, thundering to escape his body and get away from the scene of the crime.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I have no idea what overcame me. I – "

He tried to place a hand on her arm, to apologize and reassure her he knew he had crossed boundaries, but Michonne moved aside swiftly to prevent any further physical contact between them.

"No." She said, harsher than Rick would've liked, before thankfully adding. "No, it's okay."

"No, it's not." Rick said hearing the anguish in his own voice clearly. "I didn't mean what I said."

Michonne's eyes narrowed briefly at the lie but she spared him any further pain.

"It's fine."

"Lori should be here – s-soon." He stammered, his feet already on their way out of this mess. "I should go be with Carl."

"Yes – no wait."

She grabbed his arm.

Rick froze. He turned back and found her looking at him with big brown eyes filled with concern.

"Is everything okay. At home. With Carl."

The embarrassment of mere minutes ago, now instantly a distant memory at the mere mention of his son and that look in her eyes, Rick returned to his place – standing before her with similar worry in his.

Unsure, Michonne proceeded. "I don't mean to cross a line here – "

"But since I already did you may as well follow suit right?" Rick interjected, no idea where this bravado was coming from. But she had something to tell him, something important by the sound of it and Rick knew she needed encouraging.

"Right." She said smiling and appearing a little more at ease.

"I'm worried about Carl." Michonne finally admitted. "I don't know him well enough to be sure but – something seems off."

"What do you mean." Rick asked, shaking on the inside at the prospect of one more precious thing in his life falling apart without him having even realized.

"Look at him." Michonne whispered and Rick did.

"He's a great kid."

She offered him a sad smile. "Yes that he is."

"But he seems a little too great."

Rick frowned at the statement, uncertain as to how to take it.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just me." She said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

He could feel her hesitation. "No, say what you mean."

The expression on her face grew resolute and serious.

"He seems to always be 'on', laughing louder than anyone else, always ready to stay behind at school. On Mondays he helps out with the drama club, he is set manager. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he is equipment manager for the varsity football team. I'm not sure he even enjoys football."

She let out a loud sigh before continuing.

"Then on Wednesdays and Fridays, he stays behind with me. Insisting he is the first member of a non-existent art club."

Rick attempted a laugh but his throat felt constricted.

"So what? Your great problem is that my son is helpful, engaging and involved in extra curriculars."

Michonne simply shook her head and he knew what was about to follow.

"No Rick, my problem is that he isn't ready to go home when that bell sounds."


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**_ _This is a little long. I'm kinda sorry for the slow pace of this story and wrote this as a way to thank you for your patience. I'm really into slow burns (but feel free to let me know if I'm taking that to the extreme. ;-) ) Just a quick note: I re-watched some scenes from 5x12 so some of the dialogue here is inspired by that. You all may have noticed I enjoy using lines from the canon quite differently._

 **5\. Observations**

They walked the empty school halls in silence. Rick watched the back of Michonne's head in front of him. As the last of the light from the gym refused to follow and the hallways darkened, Rick focussed not on what he was leaving behind but what lay ahead.

Carl.

He had thought himself so careful and smart but as the conflict with Lori escalated, sad, sad secrets kept inside for so long, threatened to spill out into the clear light of day. It was arrogance on both their accounts, to think that a kid at that age wouldn't notice his mother sneaking in and out of the guest room before the crack of dawn. Or that his father pulled every excuse he could out of his hat to avoid family dinners.

And what of himself, Rick wondered, what was it that he was determined not to hear? To see. Tofinally take heed. This woman before him; leading him to her classroom, with the promise of grave news regarding the emotional welfare of his boy. This mysterious woman somehow inserting herself into broken families without waiting for an invitation but because it was the right thing to do. Or the man, the friend he left behind with his son, doing the same thing in his own way – playing the surrogate father no one asked him to.

And possibly more.

Rick felt his head throb, his tired eyes welcoming the darkness but his heart wondering when things would become less so.

Once they arrived in the room, Michonne switched on a small desk lamp before pulling out a sketchbook from her drawer.

"This is Carl's, from last year." She said flicking through the pages for a second. "I asked the kids to bring them in when I first started so we could do a lesson on our art journey and inspirations."

She handed him the book and Rick took a quick look at the pages.

He'd seen this before, several colorful drawings of comic book characters, some Rick recognized as already established icons from popular books and others, original creations from his son's impressive imagination. Carl's favorites were recreated on the larger poster pages decorating his bedroom wall.

"Carl is a big fan of superheroes."

"Aren't we all." Michonne replied smiling but her tone implying there was more in store.

"Here is his book from earlier this year." She continued, handing him a second sketchbook. "Mrs. Randall, their previous teacher, wrote a couple of notes for you and Lori to see."

Sure enough, there it was – in the scratchy writing of the elderly woman – everything Rick had been trying to ignore. Underneath a chilling picture of a wailing woman with bony hands grabbing at her hollowed out cheeks, her eyes empty pits and her stringy hair filling the entire page like a web she couldn't escape.

Utter despair.

 _This is a still life class Carl you can draw movie monsters in your own time!_

There was more, Rick flipped through the book to find many black and white pictures in the same vein. An empty baby stroller. A turned over patrol car. A house with no windows. A silhouette of a woman, hunched over as if crying, sitting in a rocker with her back to the viewer.

 _Inappropriate imagery. See me at break._

Rick swallowed hard before finally speaking.

"It's grim."

"It is." Michonne agreed in a soft voice.

"Now I'm all for emotional expression, but the way Carl engages with his class mates and then what is reflected in his art – it just doesn't seem very emotionally healthy."

"And you're blaming me for this."

He closed the book slowly, pushing it back into Michonne's hands as if it burned in his.

"No Rick. I'm not." She said gently placing the book on her desk before stepping closer and taking hold of his hands. Rick closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Her comforting tones couldn't reach him.

"I just wanted you to know. You should be made aware when things aren't right." She sounded like she had a story of her own to tell, a warning playing on her lips of something worse.

He felt sick. Imagining his happy little boy in a state of perpetual sadness.

Dark thoughts swirling underneath that beautiful head of dark hair.

Dark enough to do what?

Suddenly shuddering at the unthinkable places his mind had managed to go, Rick withdrew from Michonne.

"I'm sorry but I'm concerned." She said in her teacher voice, reverting to her cool professional and somewhat distant self.

Feeling the immense weight of guilt, Rick reverted to what he knew best – denial.

"We're fine." He said then stubbornly repeating himself a little louder.

"Lori and I are fine. And now I know Carl will be fine."

Michonne looked taken aback, her eyes wide and a hint of disgust forming on her face crushing Rick. Instead of speaking, she grabbed the sketchbook off the table, turned it to a page in the back and shoved it angrily into his chest.

Breathing heavily, Rick took a look.

It was a picture of a hat in a spotlight, his own sheriff's one, on the floor of what was unmistakably a representation of their living room – wrecked.

"I need to go."

It was all Rick managed to whisper before turning to escape a place that felt suffocating. Once in the hall, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and take in what he'd just seen. A depiction of his failure in his son's eyes.

There was no ounce of doubt, the banshee like woman who kept reappearing on page after page, emanating waves of sorrow and anguish was his Lori, abandoned by a man whose vows amounted to nothing.

Despite his best efforts, his son had a front seat ticket to the breakdown of his marriage and worse, he blamed him for it.

Michonne's approaching footsteps pulled Rick out of his thoughts.

He couldn't bear to look at her. To hear her voice.

Not now. Not after this.

"I'm sorry Ms. Anthony," he said quickly turning to meet her. "I made you uncomfortable with my earlier remarks. It really was just a thoughtless comment. Thank you for showing me Carl's book but if you don't mind, I think I should return to my family."

A face full of regret and pity was staring at him.

Even in the shadowy hall they saw each other. Completely.

"What will it take for you to believe this is real?" She begged him.

Rick rubbed his face. "Stop it. Please, Michonne. Not you too."

He was sick of this, sick of the blame being laid at his feet, sick of being looked to for answers and consistently coming up with a big fat pile of nothingness. Sick of doing, sick of not.

"I'm doing my best." He yelled hoping she would listen. "For Carl's sake."

"Do you know what that's like, feeling like you're the only one trying to hold together the pieces? Grasping at something you're no longer sure exists"

Her eyes hardened. "No one asked you to just get just _survive_."

"What's that supposed to mean." He demanded, stepping in closer. Undeterred by the visible anger on his face, Michonne met him with a defiant expression of her own.

"Your only commitment should be to Carl and what's best for him." She said flatly and with unblinking eyes. "Everything else is an excuse."

Outraged Rick lashed out to make himself feel better.

"Why are you so interested in the state of my marriage? Why _really_?"

Michonne shot him the iciest look possible.

Rick stopped for a moment, recognizing how far he had gone. The woman in front of him had done nothing untoward. She attempted to alert him to a deeper issue he'd been ignoring and as thanks he decided to tear into her. Exposing his own weakness and shameless desires as a man. Projecting onto her feelings he had no way of knowing were in anyway reciprocated.

Visibly offended and deeply disappointed, Michonne shook her head before leaving him behind.

"I'm s-."

Rick began, attempting to make amends but she wouldn't hear it.

"No Rick." She said simply, turning around just once to strike him down with her words. "This is yours to deal with. Not mine."

Rick opened his mouth to speak but then decidedly shut it, settling on a remorseful nod instead.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have other parents I need to greet." Michonne's detached teacher voice was back. "I'll make sure to come say hello to Mrs. Grimes when she arrives."

If Rick ever heard a threat, that was it.

They returned to the gym separately, Rick joining his son and best friend and Michonne disappearing into a crowd of parents and kids.

When he met up with Carl, the boy had Shane Walsh practically eating out his hand, the grown man seemed to be gushing over Carl's work and showering him with praise and attention. The kids around them looked on with envy and Carl delighted with his cool grownup cop friend.

Rick acknowledged his partner with a small nod. The childish innocent smile beaming at him as he approached was the handiwork of Shane and Rick was grateful.

He then embraced his son, kissing him on the head and squeezing a little harder than a teen would've liked to be hugged in front of an audience of peers.

"Dad." Carl whispered blushing at the gesture.

Rick smiled a little, relieved to see he hadn't emerged from that room to an entirely different world.

He was determined, at least for the time being, to leave behind the sketchbook and all the nightmares it contained.

Except reality had other plans.

It took Rick a moment to fully take in what he was seeing in front of him.

It was a charcoal drawing of two dark shadowy figures, hand in hand, with their backs to him, walking down a road. Faceless but not genderless, the figure on the right had feminine curves, the one on the left the frame of a tall, lean man. The road they were on was a clearing in a heavy forest of towering curved trees, boxing them in.

"It's called _The Way Back_."

"It's about how we can get lost sometimes, like Hansel and Gretel and how when things are scary, all we can do is try and find a way back."

"Ms. Anthony helped me name it." Carl admitted, Rick noticed he had a slightly sad smile on his face. "I didn't really have a name for it. I just started drawing not knowing what it was gonna be until it was finished."

Rick had no words. At least none, that wouldn't end with him shaking the shoulders of the small boy in front of him to stop.

Thankfully Shane stepped in with his own commentary.

"That's sure one hell of a picture buddy." He said clapping Carl on the back. "Deep as a bottomless well. Making the rest of the competition look like a bunch of squiggly line drawing pre-schoolers."

Carl's face turned red.

"Shane." He muttered, signalling with his eyes to the blond boy next to him.

Shane smiled awkwardly before apologizing. "Sorry. You did a great job too Kyle. Really like the use of…red in your one."

"Kevin." Rick said quietly, correcting his friend. But it was too late, the damage had been done and young Kevin was evidently unimpressed by Shane Walsh's lack of respect.

"Yeah. Kevin. That's what I said. Isn't that what I said? Anyway, great job kid."

With a sour look on his face, Kevin left to find his own parents.

"Thanks for that one Shane," Carl groaned. "I'm sure Kev's gonna mad about that for at least a week."

Shane simply shrugged. "Hey not my fault you artistic types are so damn sensitive!" He said playfully chiding Carl until he too was laughing at the incident.

Rick couldn't help but watch his son more carefully throughout the rest of the evening. The boy was doing everything Michonne had warned. Laughing louder than everyone else, talking more than anyone else. Constantly on the move as if standing still weren't an option.

It made Rick uncomfortably and by the time Lori arrived, he was surprisingly glad to see his partner. Finally! Someone he could count on being on his side. At least when it came to all matters related to Carl anyway.

"You didn't tell me it was formal wear Carl." Lori lamented as she walked up to Rick, Carl and Shane. "I would've gotten here earlier had a _certain somebody_ warned me about the type event this was." She said pinching her son's cheek after kissing it.

Rick smiled warmly at his wife. "Yeah we didn't get the memo on that one either." He said offering his wife a warm smile and solidarity in his disapproval of Carl's absentmindedness.

Unflustered by the glares he was receiving from both his parents, the boy simply shrugged. The grin on Carl's face however was short-lived as Lori gently smacked his arm.

"Not funny Carl! I almost showed up in overalls!"

Rick noticed she had gone to great lengths to ensure she hadn't. Lori Grimes was wearing a completely new outfit – a long, flowy, white maxi dress with small red, green, and yellow flowers running up and down it. Her normally wavy hair was perfectly blow-dried straight and swept behind her confidently, revealing pale freckled shoulders as she moved in to hug Shane.

When their brief yet completely chaste embrace ended, Rick couldn't help but notice the way Lori ran her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear before smiling for the man with dark eyes firmly fixed upon her.

"Still would've been the prettiest girl in the room Lor." Shane said smoothly and to Rick's horror, Lori blushed.

"Yeah mom you look amazing." Carl kindly concurred, giving his mother a confidence boost Rick was ashamed of he couldn't quite muster.

He quickly moved in to hug Lori and her lips, painted a deep red Rick hadn't seen in years, granted him an obligatory kiss on the cheek; but making sure to pull away before his own could touch hers.

With Lori finally standing close to him, Rick noticed how his already tall wife was almost towering over them all. On her feet were brown sandals with the huge chunky, block heels – sandals she once upon a time told Rick she loathed enough to bury.

She must've dug them up just for tonight.

"Prettiest girl in town."

"Maybe at one point." She said answering Shane, acting all unnecessarily coy.

Shane shook his head firmly.

"No. _Always_."

There was nothing particularly special about Shane's behavior, yet the way his wife was responding to it irked Rick. Thankfully, his son was there to defuse the situation. With the niceties out of the way, Carl was ready to drag Lori away and showcase his work to her.

"Mom, that's my piece!"

The boy didn't need to wait long for Lori's praise.

"It's wonderful baby. Amazing."

"It's called _The Way Back_." Carl said addressing all three of the adults admiring his work. "It's about finding your way back, because nothing ever changes so much that we can't. You know?"

Sadly, Lori and Shane seemed to _not know_ but politely nodded nonetheless. Rick on the other hand, wished he didn't know as much as he did. He had all the context now, facts regarding how deep his son's unhappiness ran. Well informed, however, did not mean well-equipped to handle any of it.

"If we walked a path once, we can always walk it again. Just need something to jog our memories. You know?"

"That's really insightful of you Carl."

Rick was spared having to answer his son by the sudden arrival of Michonne who caught Carl's last words and responded with the sincere encouragement of a mentor.

She ignored Rick, walking straight past him and Shane to introduce herself to late addition to their party.

"Michonne Anthony." She said warmly extending her hand to his wife.

"Lori Grimes."

The two women meeting should've cracked open the ground under Rick's feet, causing him then to fall deep into that chasm and straight towards the hell that he knew awaited him. A hell he deserved.

But it was a quiet respectful affair. Michonne showing no desire to hurt him for his earlier transgression.

"You have a special boy Mrs. Grimes. You and Rick both."

"Call me Lori. Please." It was supposed to be friendly, but Rick knew Lori's every inflection. She was demanding the similar familiar treatment Rick had gotten from the sophisticated 'city gal' in front of her.

Rick winced a little. If left unchecked, Lori's insecurities would undo the happy family home narrative he'd been hoping to construct for Michonne. Besides, he had let the family unit down enough for the both of them tonight.

Lori deserved to come out of the evening untarnished.

"Whatever Carl does right in school, he got it from my wife. She's the genius in the family." Rick piped in, trying to play the role of the loving husband.

Lori smiled at him appreciatively, happy to play her part in the pretence. Just like a partner.

But just as soon as he commended her, Lori switched on him.

"Always the mothers, picking up that slack!"

Michonne frowned a little, as if she had suddenly become aware of what Rick was up against. Without the others noticing she shot him a sympathetic look. The look should've been comforting but it had the opposite effect.

"You're both extremely lucky to have such an amazing kid." She said diplomatically. "Regardless of who put in the work." Her clear laugh taking the mean-spirited edge right out of Lori's comment.

"Guess I shouldn't be offended." Rick added sarcastically, feeling every bit as petty as Lori in that moment and unable to mask it.

"You shouldn't be." Michonne said, looking him dead in the eye. Her eyes telegraphed an apology for their tense earlier interaction and the sincerity eased Rick's mind. He was feeling fragile, his life an act and now he found out that his son was in on the charade.

Tonight, had been devastating.

Or it should've been.

Michonne's soft eyes connecting with his told him another tale.

The conversation about the joys of parenting continued without him. With Shane now unapologetically acting as a placeholder for him, an overwhelmed Rick checked out.

Then the party moved on, setting up camp by the refreshment table.

Leaving him with his thoughts.

All but Michonne.

Left together Rick took the opportunity to speak his mind and make amends, but she stopped him.

"Don't apologize." She said surprising him.

Rick frowned, and after a moment of contemplation she boldly placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, adding in a low pressing whisper. "Just do something. Whatever it takes to get there. Just as long as _you get there_."

She was pointing at his son.

"When you first came to town and got to know Carl. What did you hear him say about me?"

"Nothing."

"And Shane?"

There was a pause on her end and Rick filled in the blanks for himself.

"Sometime tomorrow or the day after, I'll be outside my home. And without seeing inside or calling ahead, I'm gonna have to decide to open that door." Rick admitted, his voice hoarse and fraught. He was leaning against a wall for support he hadn't anticipated on needing.

Michonne nodded, her eyes no longer hesitant about meeting his own unblinking ones.

"You asked me before what it would take for me to believe what's happening is real. The truth is, I'm not sure that anything can convince me to go in there. To find out."

Rick took a step forward, bridging the gap between them before speaking once more.

"But I'm gonna see." He promised her and only her. "I'm gonna see."

Michonne simply nodded, relief washing over her face for a moment before being replaced by a more sombre look.

"The struggle. You gotta let it go."

"I know it's hard. After it's kept you warm, your family together. Kept your vows alive. But the struggle – turns on you. Eats away at what was there. What you thought you were fighting for in the first place. You gotta let it go. It's the only way to find your way back to where you need to be. With Carl."

"That's what you were trying to tell me, back in the classroom. What to risk. What's actually important." Pausing to inhale deeply, Rick looked away before continuing. "I thought I knew what it meant. What being a father – a husband meant. But the rules keep changing."

 _For better or worse…_

 _Or hushed phone calls…_

 _Or hard to explain receipts from never explained solo trips to Atlanta…_

 _Or the tall unmistakable figure of his best friend, not sick in his own bed, but slinking out of Rick's house, in the middle of the day._

Michonne smiled sadly as if suddenly overcome by poignant pain. "They did for me."

He wanted to ask her exactly how, but he never got the chance. They were interrupted by loud yells from Carl, calling them to come join him at the refreshment table.

Carl. Lori.

And Shane.

A pretty enough picture to challenge the ones on any billboard or in any shopping catalogue.

To challenge the one sitting framed on his desk.

Feeling an unexpected wetness in his eyes, Rick turned to Michonne.

"Before we get going. I gotta take a moment."

Understanding, the woman before him nodded. Instead of waiting with him, she made her way to the join the rest of the company first, buying him that moment.

Rick waved his fingers weakly, with the last of his strength forcing one final grin for the sake of his son.

His tired eyes then turned to his beautiful bride, the woman he built a life with these last twenty-two years. The only girl he ever loved; now laughing brightly at a joke told by a man he trusted above anyone else. A good joke, Rick was sure of it, one that would've reduced him to tears too.

Shane _loved_ to tell dumb cop jokes.

Rick sat and waited for a moment longer than he needed to. The strength returned to his body with each breath, his eyes hardened and the salt water turning to steel. The punchline came and went without him needing to hear it.

He knew enough.

When the laughing stopped, he walked over slowly to meet the people who had made a fool out of him for long enough.

"You're here." Lori said her face smug and uglier than he ever remembered it being. "We weren't sure if you'd come back."

Shane placed a careful hand on Lori's shoulder, a small brief action powerful enough to command her attention and relax, suddenly forsaking her planned attack on her no good husband.

There was a pause, a friendly grin on Shane's face clearly waiting to be thanked.

Had Shane known the extent of the hatred in his best friend's heart, he'd know that he was the one who needed to express gratitude; simply for still having the use of the limb with which he made the fateful mistake of latching onto Lori Grimes.

"I was just telling everyone about that time whe –"

"You need to go."

Shane didn't blink for a second at Rick's icy interruption.

Carl however, was openly disturbed by the foreign fury on his father's face.

"Dad?"

"Go."

Shane's smiles were getting difficult to maintain. "Hey buddy, I don't know what's up with you bu –"

"Now and quietly." Rick growled.

He could feel his wife's body tense beside him and when Shane turned to Lori for even the slightest indication of support, Rick had to fight the devil himself not to put his best friend in the ground. Right here. Right now.

In a several torn parts and in front of _all these damn kids._

He was pleased to see his wife had at least some sense left not to respond.

Rubbing his head, frustrated and confused Shane rocked uncomfortably. Taking glances at Carl, then Lori and then back to Carl he waited for someone to say something more.

Finally, he straightened his back, staring down Rick directly in hope something more would be said between them.

Turned to stone, Rick remained silent, numb to even Carl who continued to desperately tug at his father's shirt.

Shane let out a sigh signalling defeat.

"Your dad is right kid." He said with a perfectly manufactured smile to comfort the young boy. "I – I got something I need to go do. Work."

Unconvinced but unable to argue with either men, Carl instantly twisted towards his mother, hoping to try the softer of the three.

Rick remained unmoved despite seeing the color drain from Lori Grimes's carefully bronzed cheeks as their son looked for answers.

"What's happening?"

The already small voice was microscopic, unable to reach any ears after being crushed to nothingness under the weight of the tension Rick had created.

Shane didn't stay long. After a rushed, uncharacteristically solemn goodbye the man was gone, leaving behind the Grimeses to pick up the pieces.

Next Michonne, who had been forgotten by everyone but a bewildered Carl who just lost one grownup to turn to, made her own excuses and left.

It was the act of her looking straight past his son that snapped Rick out of his rage induced fugue state. She looked spooked, Rick thought, noticing her face just before she deserted them. At first, he attributed it the ethical dilemma and the uncomfortable burden of realizing some of the details surrounding Carl's family problems but being unable to tell the boy.

However, Rick was wrong.

It was some entirely different family drama that had unnerved her.

The sudden and apparently unexpected arrival of Carol Peletier sans Sophia Peletier. To Michonne, the sunken in eyes staring from across the gym had the weighty pull of a terrible star.

Unable to press time out on his own crisis but unwilling to fully commit to it now – Rick's attention became divided. Sensing his hesitation and choosing to view it as being granted a so-called stay of execution, Lori took her son by the hand and departed, immediately cooking up the latest lies for Carl to swallow.

Rick stayed. The Cop inside him beating out The Husband and Father.

Watching the two women standing deep under shadows of the gym bleachers, he noticed Michonne clutch at that disturbing signature brown bag a little more tightly. Their interaction, lasting a mere minute, was one wholly made up of frantic whispers. It ended in Michonne unclasping the bag and her right hand disappearing inside.

Carol's eyes flashed with fear, her trembling hands shooting up ready to meet Michonne's, only relaxing slightly upon seeing the hand return empty.

In the end, arms linked, as a show of strength against an unknown enemy, they hurriedly exited together – leaving Rick Grimes suddenly with a second decision made for him tonight.

It was finally time to seriously start worrying about what exactly it was that Carol Peletier and Michonne Anthony were intending to get involved in.

 _ **A/N:**_ _And there you have it...finally making way for some action. Though dont get too excited. Slooooooowbuuuuuuurn!_

 _Thank you for all the overwhelming love! Your reviews mean everything, they're so insightful and I love reading them. Feel free to drop me messages on tumblr gimmetheheadcanons so I can get into it all with you! This story exists because you guys are legitimately the best._


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